


Intervention

by arisuthepink



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Family Issues, Growing Up, Psychology, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 72,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisuthepink/pseuds/arisuthepink
Summary: "We’re seventeen now, and I think maybe it’s time you, um, moved on?"A story of growing from adversity. Sometimes we all need a little help.





	1. Chapter 1

Nino sat at the picnic table, his appetite diminished by nerves. Glancing for the hundredth time toward the double doors leading from the school building to the courtyard, he cleared his throat and ripped another little shred off of his almost decimated napkin.

 

When the thought first came to him, it was clear as crystal that he needed to do this without Alya. Now, the moment at hand, he was beginning to doubt that decision. She was the stronger of the two. She knew what to say, when to say it, and had no compunctions about doing so if it needed saying.

 

And this; this needed saying.

 

The swing of the heavy metal doors drew Nino’s attention and he stilled. Taking in a deep breath, he waved toward the young woman exiting the school building, beckoning her over.

 

“Nino, hi,” Marinette greeted, a friendly smile on her face. “Surviving without Alya? Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be back tomorrow. Nothing can keep that girl down, not even having her wisdom teeth removed.”

 

The other teen smiled wanly, nodding. “Yeah. Hey, Mari, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you.”

 

Setting her bag down on the bench, Marinette slid next to it, her expression concerned. “Sure, Nino. What’s up?”

 

A moment passed as Nino rubbed the back of his neck nervously. The air around them became heavy with Marinette’s curiosity and Nino’s apprehension. “Ahem, well, you know how much we love you, Mari,” he started, eyes cast toward the table. “You’ve been a great friend to Alya. To me. We think you’re awesome.”

 

“Thank you?” Marinette ventured, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I love the two of you, as well.” She tilted her head, and reached a hand out to cover Nino’s own fidgeting fingers. “Nino, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s just, Adrien’s also a good friend. And-- and while Alya and I would have loved to see you two together…” he sighed, “I’m just concerned, Mari.” He chanced a glance upward, and cringed. This wasn’t how he’d practiced it. “It’s been two years,” he finally continued, and the words began to tumble out. “And we’re seventeen now, and I think maybe it’s time you, um, moved on? It’s not healthy, Marinette. I know that you’re really very sweet, and not the least bit a psychopath--”

 

Marinette’s eyes widened at that, her stomach churning.

 

“But,” Nino continued, “speaking as Adrien’s best friend, sometimes you take it too far. You know? I mean, you know his schedule better than he does. And Alya would kill me if she knew I was saying this, but I know about some of your um,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “plans; your plans to spend time with Adrien outside of school. It borders on stalker, Mari.” He sighed. “The truth is, the way the last couple of years have been, if Adrien asked me I couldn’t honestly suggest the two of you date.” He pulled his hand back from the table and forced himself to meet Marinette’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

Marinette’s heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, her cheeks taking on a pinkish hue. For the longest time, silence sat between them as Marinette heard what Nino was telling her. She wasn’t good enough for Adrien. No, Marinette scolded herself, that’s not what he said. She had to stop putting words in his mouth.

 

“Mari, I--”

 

“I have to go,” Marinette blurted out, quickly rising from the bench. She tossed a quick glance at Nino, hoping he couldn’t see the tears starting to shimmer in her blue eyes. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered before dashing back into the building.

 

Nino dropped his head to the table, his heart heavy. _That went about as well as I expected_ , he groaned inwardly, _hopefully Alya will leave me at least one of my balls when she finds out about this_.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be too hard on Nino. Maybe a little tough love is just what the doctor ordered.

**‘Do you want me to kick his ass? Hoes before bros, girl.’**

 

Marinette pressed the power button on her phone before tossing it across the bed, as though the action would erase Alya’s message altogether. Heaving a wobbly sigh, she pulled her legs up to her chest and hid her face in her knees.

 

“What are you going to tell her?” a small voice chirped from behind her left shoulder.

 

“I don’t know, Tikki” came the muffled reply. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

 

Tikki floated down to Marinette’s shoulder and nuzzled up to her temple with affection. “At least it’s Thursday,” she pointed out optimistically. “Only one day left before the weekend!”

 

“Can I just die now?” Marinette moaned in reply. The kwami wisely chose not to answer. This was one of the inevitable problems with having teenage chosen ones: their agile, strong bodies came inextricably linked with hormonal mood swings.

 

Marinette, usually a veritable fountain of  _ joie de vivre _ had been moping for the better part of the afternoon. Her thoughts ran in circles until she could almost feel a brain cramp coming on. 

 

Had it really been two years since the day Adrien turned her world upside down with the simple gesture of loaning her an umbrella? And, really, how pathetic was she that a polite smile was enough to be her undoing? He was just another high school student, like her.  _ And a drop-dead gorgeous model, with emerald eyes and a voice smooth as satin _ , her traitorous heart supplied.

 

Tikki flitted over to the desk, helping herself to one of the cookies her young charge kept at hand. The sounds of children playing in the nearby park drifted through the window of the loft bedroom. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a beautiful Spring afternoon. Marinette’s phone beeped a reminder notification, eliciting another groan from the seventeen-year-old. She glanced at her alarm clock.  _ Adrien’s fencing lesson is almost over,  _ she thought idly before catching the irony. She felt her heart stop cold.

 

“He’s right.”

 

Tikki blinked as Marinette rose from the bed suddenly, a determined look on her face. “Marinette?”

 

Ignoring her kwami for the moment, the teen opened the trap door to her bedroom and descended purposefully into the main section of her home. Reaching the kitchen, Marinette stood firm, her arms crossed before her in determination.

 

“Hi honey, dinner won’t be ready for another ten minutes,” Mama Cheng greeted her daughter. “If you’re hungry, we have --”

 

“I need to see a therapist,” Marinette interrupted.

 

Her mother stilled for a moment, and Marinette’s resolve started to weaken.

 

“Okay,” the older woman replied simply before casting her daughter a smile and returning to her  _ mise en place _ .

 

“Okay,” Marinette drawled, unsure of how to take her mother’s easy reply.

 

“The offices will be closed for the day, of course, so I’ll make a call in the morning.”

 

_ I must be truly messed up _ , Marinette blinked. “Maman, do you-- do you think I’m crazy, too?”

 

Immediately setting her knife aside, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng turned to her daughter, eyes wide with concern. She wiped her hands on her apron, and went to stand before Marinette, expression searching. “Crazy? No, of course I don’t think you’re crazy. You want to see a therapist, we’ll make you an appointment. It’s as simple as that.”

 

“It’s just,” Marinette sighed, “I didn’t think you’d agree quite so quickly.”

 

Mama Cheng pulled her daughter into a fierce hug before stepping back and leading her to the dinner table. “You are the light of our lives,  _ mon ange _ ,” she smiled warmly. “The world today is so much more complicated than it was when I was a teenager. We didn’t have cell phones and text messaging and Snapchat. Our silly adventures were left in Polaroids and our memories, not broadcast on Facebook.” 

 

She reached for a nearby teapot and poured a cup for Marinette. “There’s no shame in needing help now and then. And,” she leaned down to meet her daughter’s faraway gaze, “while you can always talk to your father and me, we understand there are some things a girl doesn’t want to tell her parents.”

 

Marinette's eyes began filling with tears for the second time that day, but this time her heart was full. “I have the best mother in all of France,” she whispered.

 

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s eyes lit up at her daughter’s words, and she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you go wash up?”

 

Marinette nodded, wiping away the moisture from her lashes before hurrying up to her room. Catching Tikki’s eye, she sent a reassuring smile in the kwami’s direction before picking up her cell and tapping out a brief message.

 

**‘No worries Tiger Lily. Lotus is going to be just fine.’**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance. This has not been fully edited but the family is due home soon and if I don't post now, it could a while before I get the chance.

“Movie?”

 

Marinette shrugged, “sure.”

 

“I’m in, what about you, Adrien?” Nino asked. Behind him, Alya’s face darkened and she all but hissed his name as she reached out to grab him by the collar.

 

Marinette stayed her hand, shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she mouthed, a placating smile on her lips.

 

_ Are you sure? _ Alya’s eyebrows quirked, her expression awash with concern.

 

_ I’ll be fine _ , Marinette’s eyes assured.

 

True to her word, Mama Dupain-Cheng had made a phone call first thing in the morning and texted her daughter the appointment details by the middle of her first class of the day. Dr. Gros was a specialist in adolescent psychology and would be seeing her the following Wednesday after school.

 

Nino was still awaiting an answer from Adrien.

 

“Today?”

 

“Yeah, you haven’t seen the new Marvel movie yet, right?”

 

Adrien’s shoulders fell as he shook his head in the negative. “I can’t; it’s Father’s birthday and he’ll be expecting me for dinner.” He adjusted his backpack and plastered on his best nonchalant expression. “But hey, I hear it’s got great special effects,” he continued, expertly hiding his disappointment. “Hope you guys have a good time.”

 

Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, feeling just the tiniest bit guilty at her relief. While she hadn’t lied to Alya about being okay with Adrien joining them, it certainly made things simpler if he didn’t. At least for now.

 

Alya scrutinized the movie times. “There’s a showing in an hour at the Balzac cinema,” she announced.

 

“We’d better get going then,” Nino declared. He clapped Adrien on the back, “see ya Monday, bro!” The trio of teens waved goodbye and set out for the movie theater.

 

Adrien watched, lost in thought, as his friends made their way down the steps of the school.  _ Will I ever be able to spend time with my friends like a normal seventeen-year-old? I do everything Father asks of me but it’s never enough, is it? _ An impatient honk jolted him from his regret, reminding him that his bodyguard was awaiting him.

 

Sliding into the back seat, Adrien pulled out his phone and brought up his father’s assistant on the text messaging app. He tapped out a quick message, letting her know that he was on his way home when inspiration struck. 

 

“Hey, can we make a quick stop at the Boulangerie Patisserie,” he called out to his chauffeur. The man nodded and Adrien added a quick addendum to his last message. Their silver sedan travelled two blocks down the street when a flash of red swiftly crossed their path and the ground beneath them shook. The driver swerved, just missing a large, stomping creature dressed in cutoff shorts, a dirty tank top and a gaudy baseball cap. A camera held fast in his meaty grip was surrounded by a faint, purple aura.

 

Adrien’s bodyguard pushed himself out of the driver’s side door and ran toward the creature, hoping to distract the akuma victim from his charge.

 

“Say cheese!” the being sang out before lifting the camera to his face and clicking the shutter. A bright flash of light surrounded them and when it faded, the bodyguard had been replaced with a barely translucent outline of his former self.

 

Adrien ducked out of the backseat, surveyed his surroundings and then crouched low beside the car. “Plagg,” he hissed, “claws out!”

 

The familiar green light of miraculous energy enveloped him as he felt the trusty black armor of his cat suit travel down his limbs. Within seconds he was bounding across rooftops in pursuit of his crime-fighting compatriot and paramour, Ladybug.

 

“Just in time, Kitty,” Ladybug flashed him a welcoming grin and held up a red and black-spotted can of spray paint.

 

“Not sure I’m on board with vandalism, Bugaboo,” he hesitated with a raised eyebrow.

 

Ladybug pointed toward the top of a nearby building, where a large satellite dish was positioned facing the sky. “Think you can buy me a couple of minutes to get ready for our photo shoot?” she called, glancing back toward the oncoming danger.

 

“I look forward to critiquing your work, m’lady,” Cat Noir saluted before vaulting toward the oncoming akuma. “How about a photo of Paris’ most well-known superheroes for your vacation album,” he taunted once he was in earshot.

 

The creature turned to the sound of his voice and changed direction, following him around the block and then at last to the top of the building where Ladybug had finished filling the concave satellite dish with mirror paint. Chat dropped beside her, pulling her in for a cheesy pose as the akuma lifted his camera to take a picture.

 

“Say cheese!” 

 

“Cat Noir, duck!” Ladybug pulled him flat to the ground, landing atop him as the shutter opened and a bright flash of light bounced from the dish back to the akuma, leaving a translucent image in its place. She blushed and quickly pushed herself to her feet, retrieving the camera. It was quickly smashed to bits, the familiar purple moth fluttering its escape.

 

“Time to de-evilize,” Ladybug cried out, deploying her yo-yo and cleansing the insect. “Bye-bye little butterfly!”

 

Cat Noir tossed her the empty spray paint can, which she hefted into the air, “Miraculous Ladybug!” 

 

In short order, everything was set back to ordinary. The outline of the akuma dissolved, leaving behind a crumpled and very confused man. Ladybug’s earrings beeped a warning.

 

“What--?”

 

“You’re going to be okay,” Ladybug comforted the man, catching the attention of her partner. “Cat Noir, I’m about to transform. Can you take care of him for me?”

 

“It would be my purr-leasure, M’lady,” he grinned.

 

Ladybug rolled her eyes as she extended her yo-yo to a faraway streetlamp and leapt away.

 

~

 

Adrien studied the dwindling options of baked goods in the display case before him.

 

“Good afternoon, young man,” Tom Dupain smiled. “You’re in Marinette’s class, yes? Um,”

 

“Adrien,” the teen supplied.

 

“You didn’t want to go to the movies with the other kids?” Tom queried, wiping his hands on his apron.

 

“It’s my father’s birthday,” he replied. “That’s why I’m here. We have a private chef at home, but I thought maybe I could surprise Father with dessert. Maybe,” his eyes lingered on the second shelf for a moment. “I think I’d like that peach tart.”

 

The baker clapped his hands together. “Excellent choice!” and set about packaging the pastry for his young customer.

 

A sharp vibration drew Adrien’s attention to the phone in his pocket.  _ Yes, Nathalie,  _ he sighed,  _ I’m coming. _ Waking the screen he swiped to open his messages. 

 

His face fell.

 

“Something wrong, son?” Tom placed the packaged tart on the counter and gathered the euros Adrien had set down in payment.

 

Adrien cleared his throat and shook his head slowly. “No,” he met the older man’s concerned eyes. “No, sir. Just-- nothing. Thanks.” He slid the pastry box toward himself and turned, slowly, to the doorway.

 

“Have a lovely evening!” Tom called after him.

 

The bakery’s door closed behind the boy with an unseemly ring. Adrien sighed. 

 

_ Guess that makes one for dinner. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta level with you, this chapter is not one of my favorites. But, necessary evil to advance the plot. Hope it came out better than I think.

Alya growled. “Where’s my damn eraser?”

 

Picking it up without looking, Marinette tossed the pink square in her friend’s direction, nearly missing her eye.

 

“Thanks,” Alya huffed sarcastically before scrubbing her paper furiously. She swiped the rubber detritus off her notebook and glared at the symbols remaining. “‘Take chemistry,’ they said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ they said.”

 

Silence settled on the pair as they continued their homework. Well, Alya anyway; Marinette was another story. Her far-off gaze had settled on the blond-haired boy at the other end of the library where he was absorbed in his own studies with Nino. Adrien’s expression was tense as he raised a hand to his hair, fussing with a strand.  _ Odd _ , Marinette thought.  _ He’s been doing that a lot lately. _

 

“So,” Alya drawled in her best attempt at a casual tone, “how did things go yesterday?”

 

Marinette jumped a bit, jolted from her thoughts and blushing as she realized she’d been caught staring. She promptly dropped her eyes back to her chemistry textbook before replying, “Fine, I guess.”

 

Alya wouldn’t let it go at that, and Marinette knew it. She needed something to satisfy the budding journalist, and quick. “We, um, just did some introduction-type stuff. Where I go to school, how many friends I have,” she shrugged, “you know.”

 

“And Adrien?”

 

“Didn’t really come up much,” Marinette shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie.

 

Her first appointment with Dr. Blaise Gros, adolescent psychologist, hadn’t been what Marinette was expecting. Actually, the teen wasn’t entirely sure what she’d expected. To lie on a couch, relaying her deepest insecurities and fears? To break down in unstoppable tears and bemoan her broken psyche?

  
  
  


_ “Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Dr. Gros greeted her, his voice kind but professional. “What brings you to see me today?” _

 

_ “I think I might be a stalker,” Marinette blurted out, cheeks flushing as a wave of ever-present embarrassment crashed over her. _

 

_ “A stalker,” Dr. Gros repeated, making a small note in the folder he held. “And why is that?” _

 

_ Marinette hesitated. “Because I am?” _

 

_ “Would you care to elaborate?” _

 

_ “Last week one of my classmates, Nino, told me that he didn’t think Adrien and I--” Marinette stopped and sighed, “Adrien is the boy I’m...” Marinette struggled for words.  _

 

_ “Stalking?” Dr. Gros volunteered, the hint of a smile quirking at his lips. _

 

_ “Yes. I mean, no! Well, maybe? Anyway, Nino is Adrien’s best friend and last week he told me that he didn’t think Adrien and I would make a good couple because I,” she raised her hands in air quotes, “take it too far.” _

 

_ The psychologist jotted a few more notes in his patient’s visit log. “Meaning?” _

 

_ Marinette bit her lip, feeling a hint of trepidation. _

 

_ “Marinette, I’m here for you. Nothing we discuss leaves this room so long as you aren’t a danger to yourself or others. Okay?” _

 

_ The teen nodded and heaved a sigh, letting her shoulders fall. “I guess Nino was talking about how I’m a little… obsessive.” Dr. Gros nodded, indicating she should go on. “I know his schedule. I have a lifetime’s worth of birthday gifts for him stored up in a trunk in my room. And, I get a little jealous sometimes.” _

 

_ “Well, jealousy isn’t necessarily abnormal on its own,” Dr. Gros noted, “and obsessive crushes are pretty par for the course for teenagers.” _

 

_ “So you’re saying I’m normal?” _

 

_ Dr. Gross tilted his head a bit, a contemplative frown on his face. “I wouldn’t say obsessive relationships are healthy.” _

 

_ Marinette blinked. _

 

_ The doctor chuckled. “My son is four; he makes mud pies and sometimes samples his creations. Do you eat mud pies?” He awaited Marinette’s disgusted expression before continuing. “Exactly. He’s four. You’re seventeen. As children grow into adults, we expect them to engage in unhealthy behaviors that they eventually grow out of. Teenage crushes are generally hormone-driven and much more dramatic than adult relationships. It’s not something to be encouraged, but that doesn’t make them abnormal. _

 

_ “What can you tell me about this boy? What do you think draws you to him?” _

 

_ Marinette leaned back against the couch and gazed off into the distance. “He’s sweet. Intelligent. A skilled fencer and piano player. Perfect manners, very kind.” She shrugged, “and I mean, he’s Adrien Agreste,” she emphasized his surname. _

 

_ Dr. Gros frowned. “Not sure I follow.” _

 

_ Marinette blinked incredulously. “The model? Son of Gabriel Agreste, fashion designer?” _

 

_ “I don’t follow fashion much,” the doctor shrugged. _

 

_ Marinette was dumbstruck a moment, but suddenly jumped from the couch and pulled aside the curtain from Dr. Gros’s fourth floor office window. She pointed a finger against the glass indicating a billboard across the way. “Him. That’s Adrien.” _

 

_ “Oh, the perfume guy. Yes, he is cute.” _

 

_ Cute? Cute?! Returning to her place on the couch, Marinette gritted her teeth and held her tongue. Cute. Humph. _

 

_ “So a bit of a celebrity crush, then,” Dr. Gros suggested. “Even more normal.” _

 

_ “That’s not why I like him, though,” Marinette said quietly. “Actually, I kind of hated him on his first day at school. I thought he was a stuck-up asshole like Chloe Bourgeois. It wasn’t until later when he gave me his umbrella during a rainstorm that I started to see the real Adrien.” _

 

_ Dr. Gros made a few more notes in his patient folder and for a few moments, there was silence save for the ticking of the clock on his wall. _

 

_ “So tell me more about yourself, Marinette. Do you have a lot of friends? You’ve mentioned one already -- Nino? What do you do for fun? How do you get along with your family?” _

 

_ “Oh, well, Nino is my best friend’s boyfriend. He and Alya have been together almost as long as I’ve known them,” Marinette smiled fondly. “Other than that, I have a few other friends in class. Like Juleka and Rose. I help design costumes for their band. _

 

_ “My parents own the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie; I help them in the store sometimes. Oh, and I’m the class representative again this year.” _

 

_ “A notable accomplishment,” Dr. Gros praised. “Your peers must think highly of you.” _

 

_ “I suppose.” _

 

_ “What about physical activity? Do you play any sports?” _

 

_ Marinette hesitated, then shook her head. “Not regularly.” _

 

_ Dr. Gros added a few more notes to the file. “You might want to consider finding a sport that you enjoy. Regular physical activity is important to keep your mind and body healthy.” _

 

_ A snort almost escaped Marinette before she could reign in it. Getting enough physical activity was the least of her concerns. Not that should could volunteer that information to the doctor. Marinette wondered if leaving out her activities as Ladybug would affect the doctor’s evaluation. _

 

_ “I also volunteer a few hours a week doing, um, community service. It keeps me pretty busy...” _

 

_ “Commendable,” Dr. Gros smiled. He finished writing and glanced at his clock. “As this is an intake consultation, we only have a few minutes left,” he announced. “Before we end our session, I’d like you to try some breathing exercises--” _

  
  
  


“Earth to Mari,” Alya deadpanned, tossing a wad of paper at her shoulder.

 

Marinette startled from her thoughts again, blinking away the memory of her first visit with Dr. Gros. “Sorry, what did you say?”   
  


The other teen rolled her eyes affectionately. “I was asking if alkynes were going to be on the mid term.”

 

“Wait, we’ve started the unit on organic chemistry?” shrieked Marinette, jumping up from her chair.

 

A chorus of angry, shushing voices surrounded her, and the teen slid back down to her seat, slouching. Alya heaved a sigh. “Yeah, on Monday, hun. But then, I guess that’s the day you were out with a migraine.”

 

Migraine, yes. A migraine named The Tempest.  _ God, I’m going to fail this year aren’t I _ , Marinette lamented.  _ Maybe Hawk Moth will akumatize a chemistry professor this weekend and I can beg him for some tutoring. _

 

Across the way Nino was chuckling under his breath. He didn’t know how Alya managed to get any studying done. If he wasn’t distracting her with impromptu makeout sessions, she was attending to the mercurial moods of Marinette. Poor girl needed some serious downtime.

 

Speaking of stressed out; Nino cleared his throat, “everything okay, dude?”

 

“What?” Adrien looked up, seemingly disoriented.

 

“You look like you’re trying to turn your pencil lead into diamond with that grip,” Nino explained with mild amusement. “Something wrong?”

 

Adrien tensed up a bit further -- Nino didn’t think that was even possible -- before sighing and relaxing his shoulders. “No, not really. Just have a lot going on over the next week. And I guess I haven’t really been getting enough sleep lately.”

 

“Photo shoots keeping you up again?”

 

No, but Adrien didn’t have a better excuse so he shrugged in response. Besides, a photo shoot **was** behind his current distress thanks to Nathalie and his father.

 

_ “Next Wednesday? But I have a chemistry midterm that morning!” _

 

_ Gabriel Agreste raised an eyebrow at his son’s outburst, and Adrien straightened up in response. The elder Agreste turned toward his assistant. “Nathalie, contact Adrien’s chemistry teacher to request an early exam,” he directed, before returning his stern gaze back to his son. “As you’ll be modelling our summer wear collection, Nathalie has also scheduled you some time at the tanning salon this afternoon.” _

 

_ “Yes, Father.” _

 

_ It took everything in him to hold back the scream Adrien wanted to let loose at his father’s proclamation. When Gabriel ascended the stairs back to his office, Adrien threw his hands up to his head, gripping his blonde locks between his fingers and clenched, finding comfort in the mild pain the action inflicted. _

  
  
  


Nino shook his head sadly. He knew from experience that there was nothing he could do to help his friend with his ridiculous schedule. How a father could be so callous about his own son’s suffering was inexplicable. However, Nino could try to offer some escapism. “Well, if you’re free next weekend I’m going biking with some of the guys,” he volunteered. “Probably Saturday morning; let me know if you’re up for it.”

 

The bell signaling the end of their study period rang out. Nino began packing up his books and Adrien set aside his abused pencil to give his friend a small, grateful smile. “Sounds like fun; I’ll probably know by Thursday.”

 

Nino nodded and tossed him a jaunty wave before walking over to join Alya. Gathering up his homework, Adrien noticed a few stray blonde hairs strewn across his notebook. He heaved a sigh and swept them to the floor. It was becoming a routine. He pulled his backpack onto his right shoulder.

  
_ Study period, twelve fifteen to one o’clock. Check. Five minute bathroom break and then History from one o’five to one fifty five. _ He grimaced.  _ Let the fun begin... _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiniest bit of fluff here. Hope it pleases!

_ It had to be tonight _ , Chat Noir gritted his teeth as he landed hard on his left leg, the ankle screaming in protest. Behind him, Ladybug rappelled down the side of the red brick building into the alley that would be their temporary foxhole. If only retreat were an option.

 

“There’s a gate in the fence,” Ladybug wheezed, “I’ll be on the other side.”

 

Chat could only nod his assent as he limped to lean against the fence bisecting the alley. As soon as his partner was safely hidden from sight, he called for detransformation and collapsed into a heap on the dusty asphalt.

 

“Cheese me,” huffed Plagg.

 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Adrien reached into his pocket and handed over a wedge of camembert. Plagg practically bit his hand off eating it in one bite.

 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette choked, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

 

Adrien sighed. “It’s not your fault, M’lady. We’re just having an off day.”

 

“I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately,” Marinette sniffled. “I think my brain is fried.”

 

Adrien could relate. He’d been running non-stop since last bell on Friday. Another tanning session immediately after class. A visit with the dietician to adjust his meal plan. Akuma attack number one. History paper research until two in the morning. Up at six for a 2-mile run. A three-hour makeup trial session with Pierre. Chinese lesson -- interrupted by akuma number two. Piano demonstration for his father. Stuffy dinner with the Tsurugis that lasted late into the evening. Back and bicep day with his personal trainer Sunday morning. Measurements for the swimwear part of his upcoming shoot…

 

And then, blessedly, a gap in his schedule. Adrien had requested dinner be delivered to his room where he’d laid out his chemistry book and notes for a final cram session. Madame Mendeliev had reluctantly agreed to proctor his chemistry midterm early Monday morning, which left him less than twenty four hours to memorize the flashcards he’d spread out before him. Adrien was diligently quizzing himself on alkyne reactions when Plagg alerted him to the breaking news of killer birds infiltrating the city.

 

“Mr. Pigeon is going to owe us triple scoops after this one,” Adrien huffed. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. You can call for lucky charm again and it’ll work this time -- I know it.”

 

Marinette felt a warm rush of affection at his words. Chat always had such faith in her, even when her own confidence was lacking. He was truly the best partner the guardian could have chosen. Ladybug and Chat Noir balanced each other perfectly in spirit, personality -- even their movements in battle. And Chat was so patiently loyal, remaining steadfast at Ladybug’s side in spite of her consistent refusal of his romantic advances.

 

Though lately, Marinette realized she wasn’t finding his flirtatious banter as tiresome as she once did. Objectively, they were the perfect pair -- in more ways than one.

 

Loud crashing noises rang out in the distance, interrupting her musings. The infernal feathered accomplices of their opponent continued to wreak havoc on Paris.

 

“Hawk Moth knows we have midterms this week. It’s the only explanation,” Marinette moaned. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled. The tension began to seep from her body leaving behind a bit of peace and focus. Alas, true relief wouldn’t come until their mission was complete.

 

Tikki finished her macaron and gave Marinette a little nod.

 

“Ready?” Marinette reached through the fence to grip the hand she knew would be waiting there. Despite realizing they were both out of their suits, the warmth of Chat’s hand in her own startled her and Marinette couldn’t help the blush that bloomed across her nose. The two held fast for a moment in silence, lending each other the strength to go on. 

 

All too soon, Adrien gave Ladybug’s hand a final squeeze and withdrew to stand. As dire as the current situation was, he couldn’t help but relish rare moments like this, when it was just him and his lady against the world. It was its own kind of intimacy, and filled him with the warmth that was sorely lacking in his civilian life. “Ready M’lady.”

 

“Plagg, claws out!”

 

****

 

“I need more squish, Giselle,” Pablo called out over the flashing of his camera. “Yes, there you go! Squish that puppy -- give it a big smooch!  _ Excelente _ !”

 

Giselle spun to her other side with her puppy plush held out before her, sticking out her derriere and giving a sly wink to the camera. The white backdrop behind her flashed in blinding brightness as a cacophony of camera shutters clicked from all directions.

 

A few feet away, Adrien sat at the makeup and hair station rubbing at his temples in vain against the throb of yet another tension headache.

 

“Adrien!” Pierre scolded, “you are smudging the foundation!” The makeup artist inspected his canvas and cursed, grabbing blindly at the pile of concealers and color correctors on his work table. “I was almost finished and now I will have to start  _ all _ over!”

 

It was an exaggeration, of course. So many of the artists Gabriel Agreste employed were his polar opposite -- full of sass and emotions on flamboyant display. It came with the territory really; art was a great medium for expressing oneself. 

 

Adrien felt a shift in the air as his hair stylist stomped up to his chair.

 

“Pierre! What is taking you so long?” the woman demanded, hands clenched against her hips.

 

Pierre huffed as he jabbed another layer of concealer on Adrien’s cheek with a little more force than was technically necessary. “It’s not my fault Prince Papillon here won’t be still,” he grumbled. With a final swipe of his powder brush, he tilted Adrien’s head to the right and squinted. “There. He’s all yours, Giorgia.”

 

The cameras had fallen silent, replaced with the sounds of equipment dragging across the floor and the flapping of the backdrop as it was changed out for the next shoot.

 

“Take ten,” Pablo called out to his team, “Adrien is up next.”

 

Giorgia muttered a curse under her breath as she misted Adrien’s hair, her trusty comb clenched between her teeth. “How does he expect me to work under these conditions? We are fortunate that you have such fine hair, Sunshine, or this would be a lost cause.”

 

“Thank you,” Adrien replied quietly, taking it as the encouragement she’d intended. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of Giorgia’s fingers working mousse through his hair. As much as Adrien dreaded prep time, this part added a modicum of zen pleasure to the experience. Bittersweet, the sensation reminded him of how Maman used to run her fingers through his locks while reading stories at bedtime.

 

Adrien became dimly aware that Giorgia’s practiced movements had stilled. She hummed in consternation, parting the hair at his crown in a few different directions. The tickling of her breath as she leaned for a closer inspection made him frown.

 

“Madam Sancoeur?”

 

Out of the shadows Nathalie approached the prep station, her heels clicking on the smooth concrete floor. She met the stylist’s eyes, quirking a brow in question.

 

“Adrien is in good health, yes?” she probed hesitantly.

 

“Of course, why do you ask?”

 

Giorgia shook her head and bit her lip, choosing her phrasing carefully. “It’s nothing, I suppose. Just that,” she sighed before waving a hand to indicate the top of her charge’s head, “is there a history of alopecia in the family?”

 

Nathalie blinked, and leaned in to get a better look. Her expression remained impassive as ever, but Adrien could detect the slightest hint of alarm in her posture.  _ Hair loss _ ? He felt his heart beat faster as the two women solemnly studied his head. After a few tense moments, Nathalie leaned back and turned away, quickly fishing her cell phone out of her purse.

 

_ She’s calling Father, _ Adrien realized with dread.

 

“Sorry to disturb you, Monsieur Agreste, but we have a situation here. Madame Cancio has brought to my attention a situation with Adrien that may warrant a visit to his physician.” Nathalie fell silent and Adrien could just make out the muffled baritones of his father’s voice on the other end. “No, sir -- I don’t think it will impact today’s shoot,” she shot a questioning glance toward Giorgia who shook her head. “Very well, Monsieur. I will schedule an appointment for tom--” she stopped, closing her eyes, “immediately after the shoot. Very well, sir. Good bye.”

 

Without another word Nathalie ended the call and stalked off, typing quickly on the phone’s screen. Adrien sighed.  _ So much for making it to the last class of the day _ .

 

“Adrien!” Pablo called, startling the teen from his lamentations. “Playlist preference?”

 

“The usual,” Adrien replied, settling back to allow Giorgia to finish her work.

 

Pablo ambled up behind him to lay a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure about that? Jagged Stone doesn’t quite say ‘seduction’.”

 

“Sed--” Adrien coughed, his eyes widening, “seduction?!” He cleared his throat and took a moment to gather himself before clarifying. “I thought we were doing ‘Summer Fun’, are you sure Father--”

 

Pablo wordlessly hefted his clipboard up to eye level, pointing to the entry for one thirty.

 

**Mens’ swimwear -- Blue Seduction Line -- Adrien Agreste**

 

Adrien forgot to breathe for a moment. Pablo, to his credit, seemed to sense his trepidation and his eyebrows furrowed. “You did not know?” Adrien didn’t reply, but his expression said it all. Pablo gave him a cheeky grin. “Ah, well -- you’re a celebrity teen model. No doubt you are intimately acquainted with seduction, yes?” He didn’t wait for a reply before clapping the teen on the shoulder and turning away to the set. 

 

“Wicked Game,” he announced. “Definitely Wicked Game.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure why, but I seem to struggle writing the scenes with Dr. Gros. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out much sooner.

Adrien stood before his father, eyes downcast. Nathalie handed Gabriel the letter from his son’s physician then stood back and awaited his further instructions.

 

Gabriel scanned the note in silence. “Nonsense,” he declared at last, tossing the note onto his desk. “The man is clearly looking to get a kickback from his colleagues. Get a second opinion.”

 

Nathalie pursed her lips and cleared her throat. The sound echoed in Gabriel’s cavernous office. “The other recommendation was blood work and increasing Adrien’s caloric intake. I did some research online and--” she drifted off at the glare levelled in her direction.

 

“My son is not mentally ill!” Gabriel thundered.

 

“Father,” Adrien piped up timidly from Nathalie’s side, but Gabriel shot him a quelling glare.

 

Nathalie laid a gentle hand on the teen’s shoulder and straightened her posture. “My research on the subject concurs with his physician; the most common causes of hair loss in young men are hormone imbalances, inadequate caloric intake, and stress.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “We’re unlikely to receive a different diagnosis, but if you prefer I will make another appointment with the dietician and schedule a blood draw.”

 

His jaw tightly set, Gabriel continued to glower at his assistant. A torturous spell of silence stretched before the man closed his eyes and exhaled. “Adrien, you are excused.”

 

“Good night, Father,” Adrien replied, nodding, before shuffling out of the office and closing the door carefully behind him.

 

Gabriel turned back to his assistant. “The doctor he’s recommended -- Fabian Marchand: what do we know of him?”

 

“He’s well-regarded in his field,” Nathalie answered, “graduated top of his class at the Sorbonne and is the premier therapist among the upper class.”

 

“No,” Gabriel declared, “he’s out. If Dr. Marchand regularly sees celebrity patients, then the paparazzi will no doubt have his office staked out. I will not have our dirty laundry splashed across the magazines for the likes of Audrey Bourgeois to deride.” Gabriel stalked over to his computer, popped up an incognito browser and executed a quick search.

 

“There,” he announced, “I’ve sent you a contact. Call his office and make the arrangements. Get some relaxation exercises and ask the doctor for spa recommendations. We’ll book Adrien a week or two over the summer. This shouldn’t take more than a visit or two.”

 

_ Doubtful _ . Nathalie narrowly avoided rolling her eyes. At least Gabriel’s preoccupation with all things Emilie and fashion would work in Adrien’s favor this time. Now that she’d been tasked with his therapy appointments, the situation would be all but forgotten. She unlocked her phone and verified the information her employer had sent her before bidding him good night and retiring to her own quarters for the evening.

 

**

 

“So, any fun plans now that midterms are over?” Dr. Gros relaxed into his wing back chair and steepled his fingers, regarding his female client with curiosity.

 

Marinette nodded, a smile on her face. “I’m working on the costumes for Kitty Section. They’re performing two shows next week while Luka’s in town on break.”

 

The doctor leafed through his folder, searching. “Luka; I don’t believe you’ve mentioned him before?” Looking back up at the teen, he couldn’t miss the blush that dusted her cheeks.  _ Interesting _ .

 

“Juleka’s brother,”  Marinette explained. “He’s a second-year student at the University of Performing Arts in Vienna and the band’s lead guitarist.”

 

“And..?”

 

Marinette blinked. “And-?”

 

Dr. Gros chuckled. “You’re blushing. Anything else you would like to share?”

 

“Oh, um,” Marinette paused, toying with the hem of her shirt as she gathered her thoughts, “it’s nothing really. Luka confessed to me once, shortly after we met. He said I was ‘the music that was playing inside his head’,” she shrugged, a fond smile on her face, “or something like that. What can I say? He’s a musician.”

 

“Oh, an ex-boyfriend?”

 

“No!” Marinette flailed her arms, awash in embarrassment. “No, we’re just friends! We went on a sort-of date once -- ice skating with Adrien and Kagami -- but that’s all.”

 

Dr. Gros scrawled a note. “Seems like you made quite an impression on him, nonetheless. What happened? Not your type?”

 

“No, I just... he’s a little older than me, you know?”  _ Liar _ , her inner Tikki rebuked.

 

The doctor seemed to see right through her. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” He waited for a reply but when she made no move to elaborate, he tried a different tactic. “Have you had any boyfriends? Any dates other than the ice rink?” When Marinette shook her head his brow furrowed. “I admit, I’m surprised.” 

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Well, from what you’ve told me in our sessions you have quite a loyal group of friends at school, a variety of engaging extracurricular activities, and you’re certainly a lovely and intelligent young lady,” Dr. Gros trailed off, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

 

He had a point. Biting her lip, Marinette took a leap. “Well, there have been other boys who’ve expressed an interest,” she admitted.

 

Like the Evillustrator, for one. Nathaniel’s attraction to her was notable, if short-lived. Luka, whom she’d already touched on. Nino had a brief crush on her immediately preceding his relationship with Alya. Her cousin, Hung, had a cute -- if disturbing -- little infatuation last Summer; and there was that sculptor when she was fourteen, but he wasn’t interested in Marinette so much as Ladybug. 

 

And that just opened up a whole other can of worms. Did she dare even touch that Pandora’s box?

 

“First cousins and best friends’ boyfriends are definitely out,” Dr. Gros agreed. “What about Nathaniel?”

 

Marinette bit her lip. “I just… wasn’t interested, I guess.”

 

The doctor tapped his pen to his chin and leaned back to regard his patient. “You know Marinette, going on a date isn’t a commitment. It’s fair to pass on someone because you aren’t attracted to them. However, meeting new people, giving them a chance and getting to know them -- these are wonderful life experiences to have. It’s how you learn who you are and what you want out of life. A date does not inevitably lead to marriage -- especially at your age.”

 

His patient looked like a deer caught in the headlights, so he smiled and intercepted her impending objection. “Just consider it, Marinette. Perhaps you could take advantage of Luka’s brief visit. Invite him out for coffee -- low pressure. Since he’ll be returning to school there’s no need to turn the date into a relationship or anything. Dress up. Have fun. Laugh a little -- or a lot! What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

 

Marinette couldn’t think of a good reason to prevaricate. She was the one who came to him for help, after all. “I suppose I could do that.”

 

“Of course you can,” Dr. Gros encouraged. “I think you’ll find that you enjoy the experience, once you stop weighing it down with such heavy expectations. And,” he winked, “I look forward to hearing all about it during our next session.”

  
  


**

 

Later that night in her bedroom, Marinette was pacing the floor. 

 

_Step one, get Luka’s phone number from Juleka -- check. Step two, compose a casual invite to coffee -- check. Step three, send message._

 

_ Send message. _

 

_ Send it. _

 

_ C’mon, just a little tap on the phone. _

 

_ Right there. See the little triangle? _

 

“What’s wrong Marinette?” Tikki appeared in her peripheral vision, large eyes shining with concern.

 

The teen didn’t respond at first, her finger hovering over a spot on her cell phone and her lower lip caught between her teeth. After a few more moments the trembling finger descended, Marinette tossed the phone away as though it had burned her, and she flung herself onto her bed and screamed into her cat pillow.

 

“I can’t believe I just did that!” she squealed.

 

“Marin--”

 

“I just asked Luka on a date!” Marinette breathed, eyes wide, frightened, and sparkling from a huge dose of exhilaration.

 

Tikki giggled and flew over to pat a hand on her charge’s cheek. “Good job Marinette!”

 

A muffled ping drew the pairs’ attention and Marinette froze. When it became apparent that she had no intention of moving, Tikki drifted down to the device and flipped it over to inspect the screen. Marinette’s hands slammed over her eyes but she peered at the kwami between her fingers. “What did he say?” she squeaked.

 

Tikki levered herself behind the phone, tilting it up for Marinette’s inspection. “See for yourself,” she chirped.

 

Marinette’s face paled.

 

And Tikki laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is Lukanette in this chapter.  
> No, Lukanette is not the end game.   
> This will definitely end as a Ladriechatnette story.

The doctor’s office was chilly -- an odd incongruity considering the decor. Wood panelling covered the walls and the plush sofa and chair arranged in the middle of the room were upholstered in soothing, neutral tones. Nonetheless, Adrien felt a slight chill and shivered.

 

“Sorry about the temperature,” Dr. Gros apologized as he settled into his chair. “We turn down the thermostat overnight and usually don’t see our first patients until seven thirty. It will warm up in a few minutes.

 

“So,” he cleared his throat, thumbing through the comically large stack of paperwork in his lap, “your father’s assistant sent me all of your medical records yesterday afternoon as well as an impressive essay on your history and the reason for this visit.” Dr. Gros tossed the stack onto the coffee table. “What brings you to see me?”

 

Adrien blinked, looking askance at the folders his new psychologist had promptly dismissed. “Um, my father would like me to learn some exercises to reduce stress and get a recommendation for a spa retreat,” he replied, confusion written on his face.

 

Dr. Gros shook his head. “That’s why your father has requested this appointment,” he agreed. “But, he’s not my patient -- you are. So now tell me,” he smiled warmly, “what brings you to see me?”

 

Adrien was startled, to put it mildly. His visit with Dr. Gros was ultimately his father’s decision -- and that normally meant that Adrien’s opinions on the matter were secondary at best. Tentatively, he sat back on the couch, fidgeting. “I guess it all started during my photo shoot on Wednesday. The stylist on set noticed that i was losing some hair and brought it up to Nathalie -- Father’s assistant.”

 

“She’s the one who accompanied you here today, right?”

 

“Yes, sir. Father is… very busy.”

 

“Aren’t we all,” the doctor hummed, his expression inscrutable.

 

“Anyway, she scheduled a visit with my doctor, who recommended that I speak to a psychologist.” Adrien frowned a bit. “But, I’m not really sure why,” the teen admitted. “Aren’t there specialists who deal with hair?”

 

“Trichologists, yes -- or even a dermatologist.”

 

“Then, why am I here? Dr. Robert said that stress can cause hair loss but I can’t be stressed, right? I live in a nice, warm house with a large, comfortable bedroom. I have a personal bodyguard, a housekeeper cleans my room, and a personal chef cooks whatever I want, any time of the day. Not to mention my career prospects are pretty much guaranteed, and fans across Europe send me letters and photos daily...

 

_ I’m also a superhero with a kick-ass baton and a part-time parkour hobby, _ he omitted. Instead, Adrien shrugged, “I hardly have anything to complain about. So, how can I have alopecia?”

 

“Everyone experiences stress, Adrien. Anything that introduces prolonged or severe pressure in your life will cause stress -- even good things. But, your confusion is understandable -- you weren’t referred for alopecia.”

 

Now Adrien was truly lost. Dr. Gros gestured toward the young man’s hands, which were absently toying with a plucked blonde hair. “Trichotillomania. A hair-pulling disorder. Sometimes it’s conscious but usually it’s not. It’s actually a fairly common manifestation of anxiety and/or depression -- particularly in adolescence.”

 

Looking down at the strand of hair pinched between his fingers, Adrien cringed. “So what you’re saying is, I’m doing this to myself?”

 

A gentle smile on his face, Dr. Gros shook his head. “No, at least not consciously. It would be more accurate to say that you’re reacting to anxiety brought on by any number of external and internal stressors. Does that make more sense?”

 

Adrien nodded slowly, somewhat unsettled by how the explanation resonated with him. “So what do I do about it?”

 

“Well, the kind of anxiety that causes you to literally pull your hair out won’t be solved by a few relaxation exercises and a vacation,” the doctor quipped. “Not that I discourage such things, mind you. Everyone can benefit from taking a few moments to center themselves as needed. In fact, I almost always end an intake consultation with some deep breathing.

 

“Long term, however -- I think you would benefit from some targeted cognitive behavioral therapy. You’ll need to learn how to process your thoughts in a productive manner and gain the tools to handle the stresses that life throws at you. While I’m aware that your father would like to slap a bandage on the situation, it is my understanding that Nathalie has been delegated the authority on your treatment. I’d like us to meet weekly at first, then we’ll reduce the frequency as you progress. How does that sound to you?”

 

Adrien nodded. Somehow, just the notion of having a way forward seemed to lift an invisible weight from his shoulders.

 

“Since your father has asked, I will suggest a lovely resort about an hour outside the city. My recommendation will stipulate that you be allowed to invite a friend along. Surely you have a friend you’d like to bring along?”

 

“Yes, Nino,” Adrien replied without hesitation. His father was not a fan of his son’s best friend but under doctor’s orders -- perhaps he’d relent.

 

Dr. Gros made a few notes on a pad of paper before clearing his throat and regarding his patient once again. “Intake sessions are usually only around fifteen minutes, but Madame Sancoeur has scheduled you for a full hour. Let’s go ahead and dive in, shall we? What can you tell me about a typical day in the life of Adrien Agreste?”

 

***

 

“Wow, they’re not even trying, are they?” Luka deadpanned as he turned his coffee cup and held it up for inspection.

 

_ Pooka _ , the barista had scrawled on his cup in thick, black marker.

 

Marinette burst out laughing before slapping her hands over her mouth. “We might as well have gone to the American chain across the street,” she giggled.

 

“Oh God, no,” Luka groaned as he slid into his seat across from Marinette. “I plan to actually drink my coffee.” Taking a sip, he allowed himself a moment to study his companion. She’d changed her style a bit -- hair down, a deeper pink on her lips, and he could detect a slight hint of perfume in the air between them. The changes were subtle, but suggested that she’d put a little extra effort into her appearance for the occasion. Luka exhaled, releasing some of the tension he’d been carrying.  _ Yep, this is definitely a date. _

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a skirt before,” Luka noted, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “One of your designs?”

 

“Oh,” Marinette cast a shy glance at the lavender fabric on her lap, trailing a finger over one of the floral outlines splayed there. “Yes, I made it last fall, but never really had the chance to wear it before it got cold.” She puffed in self-deprecating humor, “because of course, right? Spending an entire weekend sewing a summer dress right before a cold snap is totally me.”

 

“You’re forward-thinking,” Luka countered. “I like it. And I like the skirt, too.”

 

“Thanks,” Marinette accepted the compliment, ducking to hide her blush.

 

“Speaking of Marinette originals, I wanted to thank you for the costumes you brought by the other day. They must have taken up a lot of your time -- I hope it wasn’t any trouble?”

 

“Not at all! I adore Kitty Section!” Marinette refuted, shaking her head vigorously. “I mean, it’s so much fun to help out! I wish I could be part of the band, but I can’t play an instrument to save my life, so…”

 

Luka halted her rambling, placing his hand over hers where it lay on the table. His ice blue eyes gazed at her with a warmth that made her heart stop. “You  _ are  _ part of the band,” he insisted, “and not just as our costume designer. You’re -- my muse.”

 

“Y- your mu-- eek!”

 

Marinette jumped from her seat, narrowly missing the stream of spilled tea that trickled over the edge of the table.

 

“I am so sorry!” a woman cried as she dove in to retrieve her fallen cup. “I hope I didn’t get any on you!”

 

Luka was at Marinette’s side before she’d even seen him stand, pulling her further from the table and plopping a pile of napkins on the spill. “You okay, Marinette?” She nodded wordlessly as Luka scanned the cafe, registering how crowded it had become. “What do you say we take our drinks for a walk along the river?” he suggested.

 

“That… would be nice,” Marinette agreed. Luka moved the soaked napkins into the trash as Marinette pushed in their chairs and retrieved his coffee. His hand settled on the small of her back as he led her out the front door.

 

The Seine sparkled in hues of orange and purple with the fading sunset behind them. The days were growing longer with the approach of summer but it was early yet. The pair strolled along the banks of the river, hearing the lick of waves against the walkway and breathing in the mild, evening breeze.

 

“I have to admit I was surprised by your invitation,” Luka admitted quietly, eyes trained on the path ahead of them. He didn’t voice the question that was on his mind, but it lingered between them nonetheless.

 

Marinette was silent for a moment, considering her response. “I know we didn’t really hang out a lot when you were still in lycee,” she finally answered. “But -- it was nice, when we did. You have such unique views on pretty much everything, and you’re easy to talk to. Is -- is that weird?”

 

Luka’s gaze shifted askance. Marinette wasn’t blushing, which surprised him, and her voice was sincere. “Not even a little. I like spending time with you, too.”

 

“How do you like being away at school?” she asked, hoping the change in subject would calm the butterflies in her stomach.

 

He humored her and shrugged casually. “I still get a little homesick sometimes, but Vienna itself is like a visual symphony. Every building seems to have a story, and it’s even more walkable than Paris. Classes... are a fifty-fifty proposition. With some, I have to basically drag myself to lectures. Others are so engaging I’d fail the class on purpose just to take it again. My Theory of Music professor is a riot -- I’m hoping to be in his section for Music of the Renaissance this summer.”

 

“Any girlfriends?” Marinette heard the words coming out of her mouth before she registered them and was struck dumb. _ What the hell, Marinette! What are you saying? _

 

“No, no girlfriends.” He slanted an appraising look in her direction. “At least, not yet.” Marinette’s blush was adorable, but Luka realized he was probably coming on a little strong. He cleared his throat. “Fun fact: did you know that Jagged Stone applied to the university and his application was rejected?”

 

“I did know that,” Marinette announced proudly, “but did  _ you  _ know that he went on to attend the London School of Economics and made it halfway to a Masters in International Relations before quitting to focus on his music career?”

 

Luka stopped in his tracks, blinking. “I did not. You weren’t kidding when you said you were a fan.” He couldn’t decide if he should feel upstaged or impressed, but settled on the latter.

 

Now standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, the pair were earning irritated glares from passing pedestrians. Marinette nodded toward a nearby bench where they settled, taking in the view of the river.

 

“You’re getting close to graduating yourself. Settled on any plans?”

 

Marinette bit her lip, drawing Luka’s gaze there, before replying. “I definitely plan to go into fashion, and I have a few applications out. My family can’t afford the more prestigious schools out of Paris -- like Milan -- but I’m fortunate we live in one of the fashion capitals of the world.”

 

“There are scholarships, you know.”

 

She hummed in acknowledgement. “Yes, and I have applied for them. But... I doubt I’ll get one.”

 

“Why’s that?” When Marinette didn’t respond he laid a hand on her shoulder, drawing her thoughts from their downward spiral. “Marinette, you are one of the most dedicated, creative women I know. You created the shades that Jagged Stone wears on tour! There is no one on Earth more qualified for a scholarship at any design school than you.”

 

Marinette’s smile rivaled the dawning sun at his words, her cheeks dusted yet again with light pink. Luka felt himself drawn to her, as a moth to a flame. He leaned forward a bit; Marinette’s eyes widened and her heart was suddenly racing.

 

A buzzing noise drew Marinette’s attention and she glanced at the sound to find a large… something… on a trajectory toward her face. She jumped back with a yelp and landed on the ground beside their bench. The creature -- a dragonfly -- whizzed around her and all Marinette could do was swat, fruitlessly, dropping her paper cup amid the chaos.

 

Luka couldn’t help himself at the sight. He burst out laughing. Eventually her treacherous foe flew off and he reached out a hand to help her back onto the bench, his mirth barely contained.

 

“This was a bad idea,” Marinette lamented as she regarded the remains of her spilled coffee. “I’m jumpy enough as it is and caffeine only makes it worse. Now, I’ll be up all night.”

 

Winking, Luka held up his cup. “Decaf for the win.”

 

Marinette harrumphed. “Show off.”

 

Downing the last of his drink, Luka retrieved her cup and tossed them both into the bin a few feet away. He leaned back and stretched an arm along the top of the bench, scooting a little closer to Marinette. She was still pouting and he thought it unfair just how beautiful the expression looked on her face. “No worries,” he assured her, his voice dipping an octave, “I’m sure we can find something to do.”

 

_ Is he…? _ Marinette turned to read his expression and had to swallow a gasp. She hadn’t realized how close they were sitting and now, she was sure he could count the freckles dotting her nose. A gentle finger touched her chin, tipping her head back the tiniest bit. She dared to raise her eyes to his and seeing the determined expression there she surrendered the last of her doubts.

 

Luka’s kiss was confident but reserved -- just like the man himself. When he was sure she wouldn’t pull back, he brushed his guiding hand along her cheek and further, winding his fingers through her hair to pull her closer. He wouldn’t push for more -- not yet. Marinette was still fairly innocent and he didn’t want to scare her away. After savoring a few precious moments, Luka pulled back, added a finishing peck to her lower lip, and then rested his forehead against her own.

 

“Wow,” she breathed.

 

“Definitely,” Luka agreed.

 

Marinette eked out a nervous giggle. “So, what now?”

 

He knew what he wanted to do, but Luka could read the room. “I’ve been working on a solo piece on my bass guitar and could use an objective opinion. You up for coming to the Liberty?”

 

Marinette shrugged, but stood. “Sure, though I don’t know if I can be objective,” she pointed out.

 

Luka took her hand. “I’ll take a biased opinion, too.”

 

“Then I guess I’m your girl,” Marinette smiled as they took off for the houseboat.

  
_ Yeah, _ Luka thought.  _ Maybe you are. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something of a filler chapter. It was originally supposed to be the lead in to a key plot moment, but kind of took on a life of its own.  
> Since the upcoming battle is going to need some careful planning, I thought I'd go ahead and put this piece out there in the interim.

“You fucking asshole!” 

 

A smack reverberated in the locker room, instantly drawing the attention of half the student body. Claudette, a petite first-year student, was glaring daggers at Hugo -- a boy almost twice her size who now sported a shiny red hand print on his left cheek.

 

“‘Dette, I’m telling you, nothing--”

 

“Liar!” she shouted, “I saw you kissing her!”

 

“On the cheek!” Hugo insisted, warily eyeing the gathering audience.

 

“Only because she turned her head!” Claudette shrieked. “You promised me you were done with Mireille and you lied!” The blonde girl shoved Hugo aside and stomped out of the locker room, leaving him abashed and sputtering amid the tittering of their classmates.

 

Hugo shot an angry glare at the nearest observers, slammed his fist against the wall and stalked off in the opposite direction.

 

Across the room, Marinette shook her head and sighed before returning her attention to the open locker in front of her.

 

“Any bets on which one Hawk Moth targets?” Nino snorted as he sauntered up to Marinette.

 

She leveled a castigating grimace at the bespectacled teen. “Don’t even joke about that.”

 

“Defense mechanism. You either find a way to laugh about it or give in to constant anxiety.”

 

Marinette hummed, closing the lock she held with a click, “I suppose.” She lifted her bag onto her shoulder and scanned the area. “Where’s Alya?”

 

Nino shrugged, “she went to the bathroom toward the end of class.” His expression turned serious after a beat, and he cleared his throat. “Hey um, while we’re here, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I was out of line the other day. I mean, I only know about your thing for Adrien theoretically--”

 

Marinette’s eyes rolled in mild irritation at her best friend's blabbermouth.  


 

“-- so it really wasn’t my place to put my two cents in,” Nino acknowledged. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

 

Marinette shook her head. “It’s okay, Nino. I won’t lie, it didn’t feel good to hear it but the truth hurts sometimes.” Her expression softened, “actually, it forced me to face some hard truths. Alya probably told you that I started seeing a therapist.”

 

“Yeah,” Nino scratched the back of his neck nervously, “she may have mentioned something about it. How’s that going?”

 

“It’s going well,” she replied. The straps of her school bag started digging into her shoulder and she shifted to adjust. “Dr. Gros has been encouraging me to focus more on myself and trying new things. He says it’s perfectly fine to have crushes and fantasies so long as it doesn’t stop you from exploring the opportunities in front of you. So,” she sighed, “I’ve been keeping an open mind and trying new things. In fact,” Marinette blushed and averted her eyes, checking out the clock over Nino’s shoulder, “I went out with Luka last weekend.”

 

“You’re dating Juleka’s brother?” Nino blinked in surprise.

 

“Not  _ dating  _ dating. Just hanging out. But -- maybe with a little kissing.” Marinette giggled, self-conscious, “so I guess I should be thanking you.”

 

Nino laughed, “Awesome! Glad to be of service!”

 

The locker room was rapidly emptying around them leaving the two teens in a somewhat awkward silence. As the last student exited the double doors, Marinette bit her lip and checked the wall clock once again. “You said she went to the bathroom?”

 

Nino nodded in reply and Marinette sighed. “I’ll go check in on her. Why don’t you go on ahead and we’ll catch up?” She hastened to exit the locker room and made her way to the bathroom nearest Alya’s last class.

 

“Alya?”

 

Her query was met with a pitiful moan from the last stall. “I don’t think I’m going to make it,” Alya whimpered. “Tell my family I loved them.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Marinette rushed to a standstill just outside the stall and glanced toward the exit.  _ I can get the nurse _ , she thought,  _ or maybe I can manage to get the door open somehow and call the paramedics-- _

 

The toilet flushed and in short order the stall door opened to reveal Alya -- face ashen and glistening with a slight sheen. “Cramps,” she groaned, gingerly making her way to the bank of sinks. Washing her hands, she took a glance at her reflection. “I look like shit. Feel like it, too.”

 

Marinette handed her a couple of paper towels. “That bad again?” She rubbed gentle circles on her best friend’s back in sympathy. “I thought you were going to get on the pill?”

 

“I am. Earliest appointment available is next month.” She sucked in a breath, grabbing the edge of the sink for support as another wave of stabbing heat struck her lower abdomen before flowing like liquid fire through her extremities, leaving a nauseating chill in its wake.

 

Marinette collected Alya’s abandoned school bag. “Do you think you can make it across the street? Maman won’t mind if you nap it off in my room. Pretty sure I have something in the medicine cabinet, too.”

 

Alya gave her a tight nod and let her friend guide her carefully out of the bathroom and down the hallway. As they made their way home, Marinette sent a text to her mother, letting her know about their impromptu house guest. “Do you want me to text Nora?”

 

“No point,” Alya replied through gritted teeth, “this will probably be over before she gets off work.”

 

Their progress was slow but eventually Marinette got Alya upstairs and into the comforting warmth of her bed. Dashing to the bathroom she gathered up the standard supply kit, adding a cup of water from the kitchen to her collection.

 

“Here,” she roused Alya, handing her the cup and two pink pills. “It’s the good stuff,” she winked.

 

Alya downed the pain medication in a single gulp and handed the water back to Marinette before resuming her fetal position under the comforter. “Forget Ladybug,” she mumbled, “you’re the real hero of Paris.”

 

The universe chose that precise moment to demonstrate its sense of humor as a crashing sound across the street pierced the air.

 

_ Damn it, Nino… _

 

Alya groaned, but tried to sit up, reaching blindly for her phone. Marinette stayed her hand, pushing her firmly back down. “No. Just no.”

 

The sounds of screaming reached the window and Alya met Marinette’s hardened expression with a desperate look. “The Ladyblog--”

 

“-- is not as important as you,” Marinette scolded. Her expression softened as she took in the resigned expression on her best friend’s face. “I-- I’ll try to get some video for you, okay?”

 

Alya considered for a moment before succumbing to another wave of pain. She found her phone on the nearby table and waved it in the general vicinity of Marinette’s hand. “Same unlock pattern,” she said.

 

Marinette took the phone and quickly rose from her place at the bedside. “Get some rest -- when you wake up, I'll have a new scoop for you.”

 

Alya gave her a wan smile from beneath the comforter as the trap door closed, leaving her alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Alya...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not fully edited, since I'll be busy all weekend and I've been dying to get this posted. I'll probably come back and make some minor adjustments later.

“How did that make you feel?”

 

Adrien sat in his usual spot on the couch of Dr. Gros’ office, toying with the edges of the throw pillow he’d absently picked up. Late morning sunlight streamed through the window and bounced off of dust motes, making them sparkle in the still air.

 

“I guess it wasn’t really an unreasonable request,” Adrien hedged, kneading the pillow anxiously.

 

Dr. Gros frowned. “That’s not what I asked. You’ve told Chloe that you don’t like signing autographs and she tricked you into it--”

 

“It’s not the first time,” the teen mumbled.

 

“-- so when you realized she’d tricked you again:  _ how did you feel _ ?”

 

Adrien looked down at his lap. “She didn’t mean anything by it; Chloe doesn’t really think about anyone other than herself but that’s just the way she was--”

 

“Adrien,” Dr. Gros interrupted, voice firm, “I didn’t ask about your motivations. I didn’t ask about Chloe’s motivations. It’s a simple question.”

 

The room fell silent but for the ticking of the doctor’s desk clock. 

 

Adrien sighed. “I guess I was… disappointed?”

 

“Of course you were,” Dr. Gros encouraged. “What else? Close your eyes and put yourself back in that classroom. The pen is still in your hand when you realize that you’ve been coerced into signing your autograph. _ In that moment _ : what did you  _ feel _ ?”

  
  
  


_ “Thanks Adrikins!” Chloe flashed a cunning smile as she slid the glossy get well card toward herself. The movement lifted the covering paper -- “to prevent smudges”, Chloe had explained -- atop the card, sending it fluttering to the floor beside his desk. _

 

_ Adrien felt his stomach drop when he recognized his own face winking back at him. It wasn’t a get well card. How could he have been so stupid? _

 

_ “Chloe, you know I don’t like signing autographs...” _

 

_ Rolling her eyes, Chloe stuffed the head shot in her bag and flipped her hair. “Oh calm down. It’s just a signature. You sign your calculus homework every day.” She darted forward, pressing two quick kisses to either cheek before turning on her heel and flouncing toward the door.  _

  
  
  


Coming back to the present, Adrien hesitated. “I was--” he searched for the word that was sitting just out of reach at the tip of his tongue, “sad.”

 

“And?”

 

Adrien felt the heaviness in his heart sink lower and settle into his stomach where it twisted and grew in the emptiness there, ever larger and more insistent. His hands clenched the edges of the pillow.

 

His voice dropped and it was laced with the poison of bitterness. “Angry,” he now seethed. “I was angry.”

 

Dr. Gros remained still, letting his patient feel the full weight of the emotion until it slowly ebbed into something less dangerous.

 

“I-- I thought I was just annoyed,” Adrien groused at last, searching his therapist’s face for … something. Wisdom? Assurance?

 

Clearing his throat Dr. Gros sat forward, his expression gentle. “You’ve been living your life on a stage -- literal and metaphorical -- for as long as you can remember,” he noted. “Is it really any  wonder that you’ve become an expert in curating your emotions? Holding them back?”

 

Adrien nodded, his gaze distant.

 

“It’s okay to be angry, Adrien. It’s even okay to express that anger -- so long as you do it in a healthy way. How do you think you might go about that?”

 

“I could… talk about it?” he ventured, looking to the doctor once again for confirmation.

 

“Absolutely! What else?”

 

Adrien opened his mouth to reply but stopped as he realized: he didn’t know.

 

“You could channel some of that energy into exercise,” Dr. Gros suggested. “Or write it down. It’s also okay to simply live with your anger for short periods of time. Take a step back to cool down and feel it. Let it wash over you. Listen -- really listen -- to the words your inner voice has to say. When the worst of it passes, you will be in a position to make good choices. The choices that are best for  _ Adrien _ .”

 

“I’m afraid,” Adrien admitted at last.

 

“Afraid?”

 

“Afraid that if I let myself be angry, that I might not be able to stop. That it might take over and--”

 

Two cell phones rang out in tandem with the dreaded akuma alert familiar to the denizens of Paris. Dr. Gros heaved a sigh and stood, gesturing for Adrien to come along.

 

“We have a safe room,” he explained.

 

Adrien hesitated and the doctor frowned. “I uh, I have to use the bathroom,” he stammered, turning down the hall and rushing off.

  
  


***

 

Ladybug pulled the driver from the wrecked remains of his black Peugeot. He’d escaped with minor injuries, which was a miracle in itself considering the speed with which he’d hit the school’s brick facade. From within the building she could hear the latest villain crowing to her captive audience, stoking their terror.

 

After snapping a quick photo of the wreckage, Ladybug deployed her yo-yo and swung up to the roof of the school building. The few students able to escape Hawk Moth’s latest creation trickled out of the front entrance as Ladybug surveyed the courtyard below. There would be others taking shelter in place, relying on her and Chat Noir to rid the city of the supervillain and set everything right.

 

Killing two birds with one camera, Ladybug crouched down and pointed Alya’s phone in the general vicinity of the bedlam. The zoom feature identified the target she’d heard shouting from within: a teenaged girl with gossamer wings upon her back and a white, glittering mask adorning her face. She wore a dazzling, sky blue gown and in her hand she held what looked to be a glowing conductor’s baton.

 

Ladybug felt a slight shift in the air as her partner lit upon the roof beside her. “What do we have, LB?”

 

“The Truth Fairy,” she replied as she tucked Alya’s phone away for safekeeping. Stealing a glance at her unusually silent companion, Ladybug grimaced at the amusement dancing in his eyes.

 

“Excellent pun, m’lady!”

 

“Thanks but I can’t take the credit,” Ladybug tossed back. “She seems to be shooting something out of her baton -- wand? -- thing. That boy was running away when she brought him to his knees,” she pointed at Hugo, who was now staring at the Truth Fairy with his hands covering his mouth in shock.

 

“Think the akuma is in the wand?”

 

“No way to know,” she sighed, “but it’s as good a guess as any.”

 

In the courtyard below Truth Fairy struck her next victim.

 

“Ivan,” Ladybug hissed, dismayed, as she recognized the teen.

 

“My stepdad has been beating me since I was eight and I can’t wait to move out,” Ivan declared in monotone.

 

Chat Noir’s enhanced hearing just barely made out the boy’s proclamation. He smothered a gasp, heart aching for his classmate.  _ That… explains a lot _ , he mused sadly.

 

Ladybug drummed her fingers on the roof. “As far as I can tell, the only damage so far has been a few stunned students like our friends down there and the car that crashed into the school. Truth Fairy doesn’t know we’re here.”

 

“She’s waiting for us,” her partner concluded. Ladybug nodded her agreement. “Well,” he straightened and detached his baton, twirling it in preparation, “shall we?” Chat leapt off the roof, landing gracefully in the midst of the commotion in the courtyard.

 

Following close behind him Ladybug swung down in a graceful arc, somersaulting in the air as her yo-yo untethered from its first latching point and made contact with the next. She landed soundlessly on the opposite side of Fairy, who had turned her attention to Chat Noir.

 

“Ah! Nice of you to join us,” Truth Fairy mocked. “As much as I’ve enjoyed the heartfelt confessions of my fellow classmates, what I really want is to hear  _ you  _ talk!” She flicked her wand and a beam of light rushed toward Chat. 

 

His graceful backflip dodged the magic, which splashed in sparkles on the ground before harmlessly fading away. “You hear that, Bugaboo?” Chat crowed. “And you say I talk too much!”

 

“Don’t call me Bugaboo,” Ladybug groused, more out of habit than irritation. Fairy whipped around at the sound of her voice, wand already releasing its next volley. The magic made contact, freezing the heroine in place.

 

“Ladybug!” Chat cried, his heart pounding in his chest.

 

“Tell me the truth!” Truth Fairy commanded.

 

Ladybug’s eyes were glassy and distant but her voice was clear as she spoke, “I actually like it when Chat calls me Bugaboo.” A beat of silence -- Chat gaped like a fish -- and then the moment passed. Ladybug shook her head. “What…?”

 

Truth Fairy cackled, a maddened grin spreading ear to ear. “I was almost afraid it wouldn’t work on you. Now that I know it does,” she lifted the wand once again, preparing for the next round, “let’s move on to the juicy details. Tell me, Ladybug -- what’s your real name?”

 

“Shit!” Chat panicked, charging forward to tackle Fairy from behind, “LB, move!”

 

Still disoriented, Ladybug nonetheless heeded his warning and feinted to her right before ducking in the opposite direction as Chat pounced on the villain. They tumbled to the edge of the courtyard and came to an abrupt stop against the wall.

 

Chat didn’t spare a moment to recover, plucking Fairy’s wand from her loosened grip and chucking it toward Ladybug. She snatched it out of the air and snapped it in half, dropping the pieces and then reaching for her yo-yo.

 

The purple butterfly never materialized.

 

Truth Fairy extracted herself from Chat Noir’s grip, rising into the air and glaring in irritation at her broken wand.

 

“I-- I said something,” Ladybug stammered. “After she hit me with the wand, I heard my voice but I wasn’t trying to speak.”

 

Chat brushed himself off as he approached his partner, sizing up their foe. “Her wand forces people to tell her the truth -- whatever is on their mind when she attacks.”

 

“Smart kitty,” Fairy drawled. “Hawk Moth wants your miraculous, of course; but first, I think all of Paris wants to know the true identities of their superheroes!”

 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Chat retorted, leaning down to gather up the two halves of her wand. “We may not have gotten the akuma but your weapon is out of commission.”

 

“Think so, do you?” 

 

Chat startled as the two halves of her wand disintegrated in his grip, reappearing before him knitted together once again. The resurrected baton drifted back obediently into Fairy’s triumphant grip.

 

“Now what?” Chat hissed, retreating toward his partner.

 

“We’ve got to figure out where the akuma is,” Ladybug replied grimly, “and in the meantime…”

 

“In the meantime, no more taking hits from that wand,” Chat finished. “Not that I wouldn’t love to put a name to your beautiful face, M’lady,” he purred.

 

“Not now, Chat,” she scolded him. “Okay, the usual play -- you keep her busy and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 

A quick two-finger salute and Chat was off. “Catch me if you can!” he sang.

 

Vaulting in the opposite direction, Ladybug took shelter behind a structural column. “Lucky--”

 

“Truth Fairy!”

 

Ladybug bit back a snarl at the interruption, instantly recognizing the female voice.

 

“She’s going to use her special attack!” Lila Rossi called from across the courtyard. “Over there!”

 

Truth Fairy trained her eyes on the interloper, an irritated glare on her face. “You! You’re the biggest liar of them all,” she scowled, levelling her wand in the Italian girl’s direction. “For once --  _ tell me the truth _ !”

 

Lila’s steps faltered as the magic took hold. “I want everyone to see how ordinary and pathetic Ladybug is under that mask.”

 

_ Well, that’s definitely the truth _ , Ladybug thought. Shaking off the thought she quickly spoke the words Lila had previously interrupted. A blast of light flashed above her and something fell from the sky.  _ Scissors?! _

 

“If anyone could evade my powers, it would be you, Lila Rossi,” Truth Fairy noted. “Hardly Earth shattering news, considering you despise Ladybug.” Contemplating her wand, she closed her eyes as a violet light enveloped it and then faded once again. “Liars like you need special punishment. Silence!”

 

Lila’s eyes widened as she felt her lips tighten until they were gone. Her fingers grasped at the now empty space above her chin and a muffled scream escaped her nose.

 

Ladybug tore herself away from the grim scene, surveying a world that had muted to grey. With her practiced eye she picked out potential tools for battle -- an abandoned backpack; an ornamental tree; the door to the library --

 

“Now where was I,” Fairy sang. “Ah yes, Ladybug!”

 

Chat pounced, seeking to defend his partner before realizing he’d been tricked. Having now drawn him out, Truth Fairy blasted the hero with her wand. “Who are you really, Chat Noir?”

 

Ice filled Ladybug’s veins. Could Hawk Moth hear the words being spoken? And if so, would the miraculous cure wipe out their memories of the event?

 

Standing still, his gaze distant, her partner spoke. “The guy under the mask is a lie. I am Chat Noir.”

 

Momentarily stunned, Ladybug filed the revelation away for a later date and rushed to catch her partner as he fell to his knees. Above them, Truth Fairy withdrew into herself, addressing some unseen party in increasingly distressed tones.

 

“Chat, we need to get to the library,” Ladybug urged, dragging a backpack up off the ground and lifting it between them. “Cataclysm on three.” She pulled her shoulder back, preparing for the pitch. “One...two...three--”

 

“Cataclysm!”

 

Chat Noir’s hand made contact with the cloth as the backpack left Ladybug’s grip. It transformed while it sailed through the air, then exploded into a maelstrom of black dust which blinded their opponent and sent her into a fit of coughs.

 

The heroes wasted no time in escaping to the library and shutting the door firmly behind them. Chat could make out faint whispers from the back where civilians were hiding amid the books.

 

“Lucky charm?” Chat asked, turning to Ladybug.

 

Extracting the dotted scissors from her belt, Ladybug held them out for his inspection. “I haven’t figured out what to do with them yet.” She studied the room, seeking out inspiration. A few tables away, a spotted book jumped out at her.

 

Chat followed in her footsteps as Ladybug approached the table and flipped the book to its cover. “Caring For Your Parakeet,” she read aloud, eyebrows raised.

 

“Those aren’t ordinary scissors,” Chat realized. “They’re grooming shears.”

 

From just beyond the door, Truth Fairy was humming an idle tune. “Come out, come out my darlings!” she sang. “I have all the time in the world -- but you don’t.”

 

Scanning the room quickly, Chat’s eyes lingered on a large fishing net strung across the wall behind the checkout counter. Pinned with shells and paper fish, it was clearly decorative but it looked sturdy enough.

 

“Let’s catch our bird, M’Lady,” he grinned. They slipped behind the counter, each pulling down a corner of the net and shaking loose the decorations. “I’m really more of a hamster guy myself but--”

 

Before Chat could finish his thought the doors to the library exploded open, shaking the room violently around them. At the far end of the stacks, a bookshelf tipped and spilled its volumes into a pile on the ground.

 

“JULEKA!”

 

Ladybug snapped her attention to the spot across the room where Luka was now desperately tugging the fallen bookshelf off of his sister’s limp form. She watched in horror as Truth Fairy took advantage of his desperation and took aim. “LUKA!”

 

Her call startled Truth Fairy, who flicked her wand instinctively toward the cry and hit Ladybug square in the chest. She toppled back against the wall, sliding down to a heap on the floor.

 

“Luka is an incredible kisser,” she announced. “I wonder what that tongue ring would feel like--”

 

Chat clapped his hand over her mouth even as his heart sank.

 

Truth Fairy laughed. “Ooh, saucy!” she crowed. “And here I thought you and Chat Noir were an item.”

 

“C’mon,” Chat roused her, gathering up the net and pulling Ladybug to her feet. She shook her head, cheeks turning red as consciousness returned. Once she had regained her footing, Chat narrowed his eyes to plot his attack. Before Fairy could react, he’d leapt and tossed the net into the air above her. It fell heavy on her shoulders, pulling her down to the ground.

 

“Hey!” she cried in mirth, “don’t kill the messenger!”

 

Not wasting a moment as Chat held her down, Ladybug pounced. She clipped a notch in each wing and held her breath. The translucent appendages dissolved into torn halves of a letter and fluttered anticlimactically to the ground.

 

Chat released Claudette and helped her to her feet before following Ladybug’s path out of the library and back to the roof.

 

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

 

Ladybug surveyed their surroundings, pleased as always to watch the ladybug swarm return everything to normal. Her leg vibrated with an incoming text while her earrings beeped a warning.

 

“Hey, Chat, do you have a minute to take a selfie? I made a deal with the Ladyblogger to keep her out of the way.”

 

He obliged his partner, leaning in close and posing with a salute. “I’m thinking about getting some new jewelry,” he commented casually, his breath brushing her ear. “Do you think Luka could give me a recommendation?”

 

Ladybug fumbled the phone, her thumb snapping the photo just as her imagination presented her with the image of Chat wearing a shiny tongue stud. Mouth agape and heart fluttering, she tried in vain to blank out the thought of his lips on hers, hand trailing down her hip and--

 

She shoved him away, face burning. “Sh-shut up, Chat.”

 

Puffing up at her loss of composure, he folded his arms and regarded her casually. “I suppose as far as competition goes, it could’ve been worse.” he acknowledged.

 

Ladybug blinked. “What do you mean?”

 

Chat unfolded his arms. “You could have just told me Luka was the boy you were in love with.” He shrugged, “I get it; the guy’s not bad to look at and he plays a mean bass.”

 

“Luka’s not…” Ladybug hesitated. She’d probably regret it, but would it be worse to let Chat think she was in love with Luka? “He’s not the boy I’m in love with. We just went out a couple of times.”

 

Now it was Chat who was confused. “You’re not in love with Luka? Then who…?”

 

Their miraculous beeped in stereo, warning more insistent.

 

“I have to go,” Ladybug replied, turning away from him.

 

Chat reached out, wrapping his fingers gently around her wrist and holding her back. “Wait, Ladybug, who--”

 

Escaping Chat’s grip, Ladybug found she couldn’t meet his eyes. Her voice was soft, laced with a hint of regret as she unhitched her yo-yo and leapt into the afternoon sky. “Be safe, Kitty.”

  
  


****

 

The transformation wore off as Chat landed in a crouch in the middle of his bedroom. He stood, eyes staring through the carpet as his thoughts raced.

 

“That was different,” Plagg remarked as he floated toward his stash of camembert. “You were pretty lucky back there. Could you imagine? If Hawk Moth knew who you were, he’d only have to bide his time before snatching your ring in broad daylight.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Plagg inhaled, relishing the cheese’s potent aroma. “Of course, you wouldn’t need it anymore,” he continued, oblivious to the dark cloud settling in the room. “Your dad would lock the doors and throw away the key; no more school, no more patrols--”

 

Adrien didn’t respond.

 

“You okay, kid? What’s with the mood?” Plagg grimaced, “wait, are you upset about that Luka guy? He’s kind of a tool if you ask me. You’re not really going to get a tongue stud are you?”

 

“Shut it and eat your fucking cheese.”

 

The kwami froze, cheese wedge held halfway to his mouth and eyes wide.

 

Ignoring him, Adrien strode back to the window from which he’d entered and locked it. He rested his forehead on his arm against the glass and stared down at the yard beyond.

 

_ You’re more than a partner, Chat Noir. You’re my friend. And I’d never want to lie to a friend. _

 

Ladybug had never lied to him. From the very first time he’d bared his heart to her, she made her feelings clear.

 

_...there’s this boy… _

 

He’d asked about him, hoping to understand where he was lacking, but she’d fallen back on the old refrain.

 

_ Our identities must remain a secret... We don’t have a choice. _

 

Still he’d held out hope. Hope that one day, she’d see him. Not the supermodel plastered on fragrance ads. Not the talented fencer and pianist his father insisted he become. The real Adrien -- the boy he was allowed to be as he leapt across the rooftops of Paris.

 

_ We could pretend... _

 

But she couldn’t, could she? For as close as they were as a superhero duo, it only amounted to a small fraction of their lives. As meaningful as those infrequent moments were they were fraught with danger and when the dust settled there were only two strangers left behind.

 

_ I can’t accept this rose from you. I told you already. I’m in love with someone else. _

 

She wielded that steadfast love like a shield against his advances. This boy must have been special to keep her in his orbit for so long. A being truly worthy of his lady’s loyalty and affection. 

 

_ I can’t even begin to imagine him not being here. _

 

And he knew he’d wait. He’d wait an eternity if that was what it took to break through the hold this boy had over his lady.

 

_ I don’t want to play around with your feelings. It would be the same as lying to you. _

 

Ladybug had never lied to him before. Or so he thought.

 

_ I didn’t mean to hurt you. _

 

She dated Luka. Kissed him. And what of this perfect boy she loved? The reason she couldn’t even entertain the thought of loving Chat Noir?

 

It was a lie. A fiction spun from her lips to take pity on his weak, pathetic heart.

 

Adrien turned away from the windows. His eyes fell immediately on the three monitors sitting on his desk, their screens filled with images of a beautiful young woman in red and black.

 

She could have loved him all along. 

 

_ I really am sorry. _

 

She just didn’t want to.

 

A furious roar rang out in the emptiness of Adrien’s room as a basketball smashed through the monitors, their bright screens fading out into darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Nathalie fought hard to keep her expression neutral as Gabriel took in the wreckage before him.

 

“Adrien needs a new therapist,” he announced.

 

“Sir?”

 

“I don’t know what his current doctor is putting into his head, but Adrien has never thrown a tantrum in his life. Clearly Dr. Grune--”

 

“Gros,” Nathalie corrected.

 

“Whoever he is, he’s obviously further stressing my son.”

 

“It could have been an accident,” Nathalie lied.

 

Gabriel turned to his assistant, a frown on his face. “You told me Adrien destroyed his computer.”

 

“I didn’t actually see it happen, sir. There was a commotion and then-- well, Adrien didn’t tell me what happened.”

 

Scrutinizing his assistant suspiciously, Gabriel huffed. “Very well; but I want a camera in Adrien’s room until further notice. See that it is done before he returns from school.” Turning on his heel, he strode out of his son’s room.

 

“Yes, sir,” Nathalie sighed.

 

***

 

“You took some great shots for a newbie journalist,” Alya gushed as she swiped through the photos on her phone. “It’s almost like you were part of the action.”

 

Marinette choked on her pizza and Adrien -- face awash with concern -- reached from beside her on the picnic bench to pat her on the back.

 

“I’m okay,” she coughed, downing a gulp of water. Taking a moment to compose herself, she checked the time on her phone. “I um, I have to get going or I’ll be late.”

 

“Okay, I’ll see you after school?” Alya glanced up from her phone, where she was rapidly typing up captions for the Ladyblog’s latest article.

 

Marinette nodded, gathering up her books and lunch tray. “Bye!” she waved as she scurried off toward the park exit.

 

“Thanks again for getting the pics!” Alya called after her. Finishing up the article, she pressed the ‘publish’ button and sat back with a satisfied grin. “I was bummed that I missed the action yesterday, but Marinette really did get some incredible footage for me. Take a look!”

 

Adrien and Nino leaned over the picnic table to check out the latest entry on the Ladyblog. There were a few pictures of the car accident -- wiped away by the miraculous cure -- and a couple of photos of students running from the building. Alya scrolled to the middle of the post, clicking play on a video there.

 

“Awesome,” Nino breathed. “Was she on the roof or something?”

 

“Right? I mean, probably not but at the beginning before she zooms in on the Truth Fairy the angle sure makes it look that way, doesn’t it?”

 

Adrien frowned. Alya was right -- the first few seconds of footage matched what he’d witnessed from the roof. He couldn’t even remember seeing Marinette in the building yesterday. Granted, he’d been a bit distracted with the akuma. Still, with such a clear shot… how could he have missed her?

 

“Where’s Marinette off to?” Adrien asked as Alya pocketed her phone.

 

Nino and his girlfriend shared a look. “She’s got a doctor’s appointment,” Alya replied simply.

 

“She’s not sick, is she?”

 

“No, she’s seeing a psy--OUCH!” Nino yelped, leaning down to rub at his battered shin.

 

Alya withdrew her foot and ignored him, addressing Adrien. “Psoriasis. Just a little stress flare-up. She’s been waiting to hear from Polimoda .”

 

Adrien, while a bit naive, knew when he was being lied to -- or evaded. Still, he’d learned in those situations it was best to play stupid. “Oh,” he replied with a nod before he’d fully parsed what Alya said. “Wait, Marinette applied to Polimoda?”

 

“Yeah, and she’s been spazzing out about it.” Alya sighed, “I keep saying she’s a shoe-in, but the girl won’t stop worrying. She picked the wrong designs for her portfolio! Her essay sucks! You know -- normal Marinette freak out.”

 

“I got my letter last week,” Adrien volunteered, taking another bite of his lunch. “I’m sure she’ll hear back any day now.”

 

Nino froze, his soda bottle raised halfway to his mouth. “You applied to Poli? What happened to MIT?”

 

Adrien averted his gaze, demurred. “I told you; my father will never go for it.”

 

His passion for particle physics simply wouldn’t outrank his father’s decree that he take over the family business. Adrien had often thought it a sad irony that he would merely endure the fashion career his classmate would struggle and sacrifice everything for.

 

_ I’d switch places with her in a heartbeat _ , he lamented.

 

Nino groaned with irritation. “Dude. You’re going to be eighteen in a month. Who cares what the fuck your dad wants? Don’t you have, like, thousands saved up from your modelling gigs? Put that shit into a secret account and bolt.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Adrien insisted.

 

“It is,” Nino contradicted. “You’re just afraid.”

 

To Adrien’s immense relief the school bell rang, calling everyone back to class. Nino shook his head but dropped the subject as the trio gathered their things and marched on to Chemistry.

 

A few blocks down the street, Marinette sat on the couch in Dr. Gros’ office, a smile on her face.

 

“You seem a little brighter today,” the doctor noted. “Did you take my advice?”

 

“I did!”

 

“And…?”

 

“And I had a good time,” Marinette replied with a grin. “Luka and I went out -- twice. We’re going to have lunch before he leaves on Saturday.” Her smile faded. “I knew he was only going to be here for a couple of weeks, but it’s going to be hard to say goodbye.”

 

Dr. Gros smiled, his eyes kind. “What was it like, asking him out?”

 

“Terrifying,” she admitted with a short laugh. “I’m not sure why.”

 

“Fear of rejection? Entirely normal, even for the most confident people.” Dr. Gros assured. “I’m glad to hear that you were able to overcome it. Do you think you could ask Adrien out?”

 

Marinette’s eyes widened and her face paled. “N-no! Absolutely not!”

 

“Why not? You pushed past the fear once and ended up having a great time.”

 

“I’d be mortified,” Marinette moaned.

 

“Mortified, huh?” Dr. Gros coughed, hiding a little smile at her dramatic display. “Why? What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

 

“He’ll say no!” she cried, face now flush with embarrassment.

 

Dr. Gros looked considered his patient, expression calm. “So?”

 

“So?!” She paused, considering the scenario. “He might laugh at me.”

 

“I recall you describing this young man as ‘sweet’ and ‘very kind’ with,” he consulted his notes, “‘perfect manners.’ Doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would laugh at you for asking him on a date.”

 

She had described him that way, hadn’t she? “Maybe,” she finally acknowledged.

 

Sitting back, Dr. Gros set aside his patient’s folder. “You know what I think? I think you’re afraid that you aren’t good enough for him.” He wore a mildly teasing expression but when she didn’t dispute the assessment he asked, “why do you get to make that decision? Shouldn’t Adrien decide who he wants to date?”

 

“I think his father makes those decisions, actually,” Marinette noted, glum.

 

Chuckling, Dr. Gros returned to the matter at hand. “It’s a lot easier having a crush, isn’t it? You get to experience the joys of love. The fluttery butterflies in your stomach. You fantasize. You hope. And you do it all without having to put yourself out there.” An eyebrow raised in inquiry. “It’s safe, isn’t it?”

 

“If he says no,” Marinette drifted off as she considered the implications. A wash of sadness passed over her. “That’s the end of it,” she finished, heart clenching.

 

“It’s okay,” Dr. Gros ventured, “if you’re not ready to face that. Just remember: you will not be able to move on if you don’t take a risk and put yourself out there. You did it with Luka.”

 

Marinette huffed. “I knew Luka liked me. Even if I was afraid, I knew he wouldn’t say no.”

 

“There is something to be said for picking the low-hanging fruit,” Dr. Gros agreed. “Not to mention the effect of reciprocal liking. It’s a human tendency to feel attracted to a person when you know that person likes you,” he explained.

 

“Reciprocal liking,” Marinette echoed.  _ How does that explain Chat? _

 

“Something wrong? You look like you have a question.”

 

Marinette focused her eyes from their far-off gaze. “There’s this boy,” she started hesitantly, “that I’ve known for a couple of years now. We’re partners on that community service project I mentioned before.”

 

Dr. Gros retrieved his patient folder and waited for her to continue.

 

“Cha-- um, Charles is a good friend,” she continued. “He has confessed to me a few times now and I’ve always turned him down but... he’s still a shameless flirt. Shouldn’t he have given up, by now?”

 

The doctor cocked his head as he contemplated her question. “Not necessarily,” he said at last. “There are people who chase the forbidden. But in the end, reciprocity of attraction isn’t just about romantic feelings. It comes down to how you make someone feel. Intimacy is built on trust, and it’s a natural tendency to feel safe with someone who likes you. Even if they like you as a friend.

 

“Any particular reason you’ve been turning him down? Not attractive?”

 

Marinette shook her head. “Objectively, he’s actually very good looking.”

 

“Bad body odor?” Dr. Gros asked with a grin.

 

“No, nothing like that,” she laughed.

 

“He’s too real,” he stated at last.

 

The sudden frown on Marinette’s face was all Dr. Gros needed to know he’d hit the nail on the head. 

 

“Every relationship in your life changes you. It can be terrifying. It can be wonderful. Taking that first step is the hardest part; not just because you fear rejection. Tell me, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you were to pursue Charles?”

 

“He could say yes,” Marinette replied, wondering at how easily the answer came to her.

 

“And that would be a bad thing because--?”

 

Heaving a sigh, Marinette looked out of the window as though searching for the answer in the swaying trees beyond. “Because he doesn’t like me. Not the real me. There’s this... picture. This idealized image he has of me. It’s not who I really am.”

 

“You’re afraid that he’ll be disappointed once he sees the metaphorical warts?”

 

She nodded, turning his words over in her mind and finding a perfect fit.

 

“Is Charles perfect?”

 

Marinette’s eyebrows leapt in surprise. “Oh God, no!”

 

“Then, why do you think you have to be? Tell me; you seem to believe this boy has an unwarranted high opinion of you. He’s placed you on a pedestal of sorts, right?” He awaited her confirmation before turning a piercing gaze on her. “Isn’t that the same thing you’ve been doing with Adrien?”

 

Marinette opened her mouth, a vehement denial on the tip of her tongue, but it never left her lips. Sitting back, cold dread seeped into her heart. He was right. What did she really know about Adrien, besides what the Gabriel publicists allowed? His interview in the latest issue of  _ Muteen  _ had the usual stats -- height, weight, favorite music genre -- but it was all so shallow. And the time spent with him as part of their larger clique amounted to little more than quickly exchanged pleasantries and small talk. His dreams, his fears, the things that he took pride in; those details were all a mystery to her. 

 

In truth, Chat had a more accurate picture of her than she had ever had of Adrien. Sure, he was lacking in the details but, her moods? Her weaknesses? Her dream of working in fashion! If she had spent two years infatuated with an idealized image of Adrien, could she begrudge Chat Noir his adoration for his partner?

 

_ No _ , Marinette concluded. And yet, hadn’t she done just that? At least Chat had been honest enough to express his feelings. Feelings which -- if she gave them deep consideration -- Marinette had to acknowledge were more genuine than she’d given him credit for.

 

Again, her inward turn spoke volumes. The doctor glanced at the clock, noting that their session was coming to an end. “You’re feeling conflicted,” he empathized.

 

“I haven’t been fair,” Marinette stated quietly. “To either of them.”

 

“Perfectly normal,” Dr. Gros soothed. “It’s easy to become caught up in the highs infatuation now and again. There’s a reason diaper changes don’t feature heavily in romance movies,” he chuckled. “It’s when infatuation ends that real love grows.”

 

_ Can I do that? Can I give Chat a chance after I said no so many times? _

 

“What if I hurt him?” Marinette murmured.

 

“Adrien?”

 

“Cha-- Charles. What if things become awkward between us?”

 

Dr. Gros rose and strode toward his desk, filing her patient dossier away for later review. “That is the risk you take,” he agreed. “You cannot spend your life trying to manage the emotions of others. All you can do is make decisions that are in line with your own values.”

 

Vaguely aware that her time was up, Marinette stood from the couch and followed the doctor to the door where they bid each other farewell. Lost in her thoughts, she scheduled her next appointment and made the journey home in a daze. Alya expressed concern at the distance in her friend’s expression which Marinette explained away as fatigue.

 

Later that night, Ladybug sat on the edge of the second platform of the Eiffel Tower, gazing out at the twinkling city lights beyond. While patrols on Thursday were technically voluntary, Ladybug knew Chat had only ever missed one: last winter, when he’d been laid up with the flu. She surmised Chat found some kind of release in the activity, though he’d never really opened up about it.

 

An unseasonably cool wind lifted the ribbons of her pigtails and sent a shiver down her spine. She opened up her yo-yo, checking the time -- 20:01 -- and messages: none. Hugging herself against the chill, she lapsed back into her thoughts once more. 

 

Chat Noir was her closest friend -- of that there was no dispute. He’d saved her life multiple times, and put his own safety at risk for her benefit more often than that. For all his ostentatious bravado and shameless flirting, Ladybug could not deny that his actions came from the heart, rooted in a deep and abiding affection for his partner.

 

It was with this realization that she made a decision. She couldn’t confess her newfound attraction to him. The feelings were too new and raw; the risk to their partnership too great. But if he were to make an overture, well... surely it wouldn’t hurt to reciprocate.

 

Right?

 

Checking the time -- 20:09, now -- Ladybug stood and stretched. He would be there soon. Chat Noir never missed patrol. For now, she would warm up with a brisk walk around the platform.

 

At 20:59, Ladybug tossed out the yo-yo and leapt from the platform to begin her rounds.

 

 

 

Alone.


	11. Chapter 11

Ladybug took a deep breath, forcing her teeth to stop their relentless attack on her bottom lip. _It’s just not like him_ , she fretted. Making up her mind, she pressed speed dial and tapped her foot in agitation as the seconds seemed to stretch.

 

“Chat got your tongue? Leave a message!”

 

Her shoulders fell. “Hey, Chat, it’s me again. I’m probably annoying you and I’m sure everything’s fine but… I’m worried. Just… leave me a message when you get this so I know you’re okay? Um… all right… good ni-- I mean, night bye -- err-- goodbye!”

 

Clapping the device closed, she called for her de-transformation and heaved a sigh.

 

“Still no word?” Tikki queried.

 

Marinette shook her head. “It’s times like this I think maybe we should exchange identities.”

 

Tikki frowned. “You know why you can’t do that.”

 

“Yes, but what if he was in an accident out of his suit? He could be in a hospital somewhere and we’d never know--”

 

“Master Fu would know,” Tikki insisted. “Plagg knows to take the ring back to the guardian if something happens to Chat Noir.” Patting Marinette’s cheek, the kwami smiled kindly. “If it will make you feel better, we could visit and ask if Master Fu has heard anything.”

 

Marinette returned a wan smile. “Thanks, Tikki. I think, if he doesn’t show up for Sunday patrol, I may do just that.” Collapsing into her desk chair, she’d reached to turn on her monitor when the hatch to her bedroom door squeaked open.

 

“Marinette! Guess what came in the mail?” Sabine Cheng sang out, a broad smile on her face.

 

Marinette leapt out of her chair, tripping over her own legs and falling to the floor in her haste. She crawled her way to her mother’s side sheepishly.

 

Sabine shook her head with amusement as she came to sit beside her accident-prone daughter. Giving her a moment to settle, Sabine leafed through the stack of letters in her hand, extracting two of them.

 

Accepting the letters with shaking fingers, Marinette forced herself to breathe as Dr. Gros had taught her. “Two?” The first was a stiff, white envelope imprinted with the minimalistic design of the University of Arts, London. The second bore a Firenze, Italy return address.

 

They’re both pretty thick,” she observed with a wavering voice. “That’s a good sign, right?”

 

“Maybe? You could just open them and find out,” Sabine winked.

 

_Okay, here goes…_

 

Maman Cheng waited, patiently, as Marinette opened the first letter and unfolded the innermost page. Her daughter’s eyes shifted left to right as she scanned the words on the page.

 

A shriek pierced the air. “Maman! I got in with a full scholarship!” Marinette’s eyes shone bright as she looked at her mother. Her heart was beating like a hummingbird’s wings and she felt light enough to fly.

 

Her mother leaned in for a hug. “Congratulations! Oh! We probably should have waited for your father! Maybe we can go tell him now? Or would you like to open the other one first?”

 

Marinette’s jubilance ebbed as her eyes fell on the second envelope. “I’m almost afraid to open it,” she confessed. 

 

Sabine squeezed her a bit tighter before releasing and sitting back. “Your father and I are proud of you no matter what that letter says,” she reminded her. “And you will be the best fashion designer in Paris -- with or without Polimoda.”

 

Taking in another deep breath, Marinette nodded and set aside the contents of her first letter. She closed her eyes, taking great care in lifting the sealed edges of the envelope held tightly in her hands. The letter inside was layered over a generic pamphlet, giving little indication as to her status.

 

This time, the teen’s expression was harder to decipher as it cycled through a myriad of conflicting emotions. Sabine was sure there was some happiness in there, but she’d seen a moment of disappointment, as well. After a few tense moments, Marinette handed the letter to her.

 

“I got in,” she breathed, “with a tuition-only scholarship.”

 

“I’m so happy for you, honey,” Sabine cooed. “Getting in is the first step, right? Maybe we can apply for other scholarships to make up the difference?”

 

Marinette nodded, allowing her mother’s optimism to override her mild disappointment. “I could get a part-time job,” she allowed.

 

“Well,” Sabine stood, gathering up the discarded mail and opening up the hatch, “we can discuss the details later. Let’s tell your father before you have to go back to school. He’s been saving up a 2011 Beaujolais for a special occasion, and I think this qualifies. We’ll have to open it up tonight at dinner!”

 

Smiling, Marinette followed her mother to the door, pausing a moment to allow Tikki to slip back into her purse.

 

***

 

Guilt was an ever-present companion for Adrien Agreste. Most of the time it reared its ugly head when he failed to meet his Father’s exacting standards or -- more recently -- when Nathalie stuck her neck out on his behalf and drew Gabriel’s ire onto herself. Now the oily fingers of guilt were all the more palpable for the simple fact that this time, he’d truly earned it.

 

Adrien supposed it was a bit of a miracle that the wielder of the miraculous of destruction hadn’t lashed out sooner. Perhaps that was the reason Master Fu chose him in the first place. He’d managed to swallow his self-directed rage when the door to his room opened and Nathalie swept in to assess the damage. Nonetheless, it was clear from the mildly startled expression in her cool eyes that she _knew_.

 

With his quiet assurance that he’d handle the immediate aftermath, Nathalie informed him that replacements would be delivered the next day. The tacit agreement that this incident would never be spoken of again was mutual. Neither stood to gain anything from sharing the details with Monsieur Agreste.

 

Ironically it was when he most needed to escape the confines of his gilded prison that Chat Noir found himself unable to leave. He’d called for the transformation and dropped it again three times -- or was it four? He’d lost count -- before Plagg outright growled at him to ‘shit or get off the pot’. Ultimately he’d curled up in bed, the gnawing within becoming almost excruciating when the shadow of Ladybug hopping the rooftops traversed his wall.

 

21:52.

 

She must have been waiting for him. 

 

_Good_.

 

_...fuck._

 

He gripped the duvet covering him tighter and pulled it up over his head, as though the action would dispel the ugliness inside.

 

Ladybug hadn’t done anything wrong. Plagg reasonably pointed out that even her little white lie may not have been untrue, at least in the beginning. The reality of that observation only made the ache worse, for it meant that she’d managed to move on while he remained helplessly anchored. Adrien wasn’t angry with Ladybug. No, he was angry with--

 

“--Adrien?”

 

He startled, regaining his bearings as the front steps of the school came back into focus. “He’s well past the Graduates’ Dance,” Nino snickered beside him, joking to Sabrina. “Dude’s head is already in Italy.”

 

The girl rolled her eyes and focused on her blond classmate. “The Grad Dance is the last week of May,” she repeated, “and Rose and I are trying to get a rough head count to book a venue. So, are you planning to come?”

 

“Last week of May? Yeah, I think I can make that. I’ll have to check with Nathalie--”

 

Sabrina had already turned her attention to her clipboard. “Okay, so that’s three more with Alya, Nino and Adrien,” she looked up at the trio, “is Marinette out today?”

 

“No,” Alya replied, “but go ahead and count her in. She’ll be there.”

 

Marking another tally with a curt nod, Sabrina turned away, Rose trailing after her.

 

“Speak of the devil,” Alya smiled, waving Marinette over from across the street.

 

The girl was practically skipping and it was a wonder -- given the subject -- that she didn’t fall flat on her face. Skidding to a halt in front of her best friend, Marinette shoved a sheet of paper in her face. “I got in!”

 

Alya blinked, pushed the letter back a bit and scanned its contents. Her face lit up as her heart swelled with pride. “Oh my God, girl! That’s great! Guys, she got into Poli!” Throwing her arms around her friend, she added, “not that there was any doubt in my mind.”

 

Nino gave her a hearty pat on the back and Adrien smiled politely. “Congratulations Marinette,” he commended. “Maybe we’ll even have a few classes together.”

 

“Thanks,” she tossed back. “Th-though I’m not sure I’m going yet. I got into the University of the Arts, too -- with a full scholarship.” She braced herself as Alya launched herself forward again, shrieking.

 

“See? I told you that you were a shoe-in pretty much anywhere. All this time you spent worrying for nothing!”

 

Marinette shuffled her foot, eyes downcast. “I was rejected from ESMOD.”

 

“ESMOD sucks,” Alya huffed.

 

“And you know this how?” Marinette raised a brow at Alya’s sure stance, to which the latter shrugged.

 

“She’s not wrong,” Adrien interjected. “Poli was in the top ten on the world rankings and ESMOD was around twenty five.”

 

“M-maybe,” Marinette conceded. To be fair, her application to ESMOD had been hastily completed during a particularly harrowing week. She’d sent in the wrong portfolio and neglected to properly proofread the letter she’d sent, as well.

 

“Anyway,” Alya took her friend by the arm and started dragging her into the school. “This calls for a celebration: girls’ night!” She tossed a look over her shoulder at Nino. “You’re on your own tonight, babe!”

 

Nino shook his head, amused, then turned back to his best friend. Adrien had the thousand-yard stare again.

 

“Dude, seriously. What’s up with you today?”

 

“Nothing. Just--” Adrien hesitated. Nino would have his back no matter what, but how could he even start to explain the complex emotions he was processing? “Just the usual -- too much stress and too little sleep.”

 

Nino clapped his hands together. “Well, if Alya and Mari can declare a girls’ night, then I say we have ourselves a guys’ night. What do you--wait. Crap.” Nino groaned, “I forgot that Chris has all his annoying brat friends coming over tonight. I guess we could hit up the arcade and a movie?”

 

_Ugh._ Adrien appreciated the gesture, but the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was the public. Then again…

 

“We could hang at my place tonight.” He chucked at Nino’s disbelieving stare. “Dad’s on his way to New York as we speak, and Nathalie has been weirdly accommodating today. “If we do an hour of homework first, then you can probably stay over after.”

 

The cold, empty Agreste household was hardly the kind of place Nino wanted to spend an entire night but with Monsieur Agreste himself out of town -- well, it was clear Adrien needed some male bonding. Nino would take one for the team. “You got it, bro,” he winked, finger guns deployed. “This time, pizza’s on me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little introspection and plot transition for today.
> 
> Next on Intervention: Nino done goofed up. And why does Adrien hear Ladybug's voice at a pizzeria?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucked out and had enough peace and quiet to write some this morning. In the interest of getting something out sooner, the pizzeria part has been deferred to chapter 14.
> 
> Enjoy!

Plagg salivated.

 

The remnants of the boys’ pizza had long gone cold, but its extra-cheesy scent continued to tantalize him. If Adrien didn’t sneak some his way soon, Plagg wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

 

At last, the hyped-up boy who was his holder’s friend jumped over the back of the sofa and sauntered into the bathroom. Seizing his chance, Plagg whizzed over to the coffee table. He didn’t even bother to look in Adrien’s direction. Lifting a slice into the air, he peeled the congealed cheese off and dropped the remaining soggy bread onto the box once again. His prize inhaled, Plagg burped and sighed happily.

 

“I was going to bring you some camembert,” Adrien pointed out wryly. 

 

Plagg flapped a paw in his direction. “Variety is the spice of life, kid. But -- I’ll take that camembert later, too.”

 

The toilet flushed, heralding Nino’s impending return.

 

“Off you go, Plagg.”

 

Frowning, the kwami lifted the last slice of pizza from the box.

 

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Fine, but take the whole thing you heathen.”

 

Plagg zipped back to his favorite spot in the trash can just as the bathroom door opened.

 

Plopping back onto the couch, Nino noticed the discarded bread flap and raised an eyebrow. “I know we’re growing teen boys but how the hell do you manage to eat like shit and still keep a six pack?”

 

“That is an industry secret,” Adrien quipped.

 

“You’re not bulimic are you?”

 

Scrunching his face in distaste, Adrien shook his head. “I’ve seen what that looks like firsthand. No way, man.” He reached for the two video game controllers on the table and tossed one toward Nino. “Enough warm up. You say you can beat me at Mecha Strike: prove it.”

 

Nino scooted to the edge of the couch, getting into position. “You’re going down this time, Agreste,” he taunted.

 

The game started off with the two friends fairly well matched. Each took turns defeating opponents and gaining useful power ups. As the difficulty increased, Nino was predictably struggling to keep up with Adrien’s dexterity and focus. Ever the generous host, Adrien backed off a bit to keep Nino in the game.

 

Unfortunately, doing so gave his mind time to wander.

 

“Hey Nino, can I ask you something?”

 

“‘Sup?”

 

“You know that time you asked Marinette out to the zoo?”

 

Nino turned a sidelong glance toward his friend. “Yeah?”

 

“You ended up dating Alya not long after that,” Adrien mused. “Even though you had this big crush on Marinette.”

 

Nino jumped, cursing, and mashed the buttons on his controller but it was futile -- one more life left unless he could get a health charm in this next round. Adrien pressed start mindlessly, not bothering to power up his character as the next round started. 

 

“So… how did you get over your crush so fast?”

 

A moment passed as Nino focused on the game. He got a couple of hits in, and let his shoulders relax. “I don’t know, man,” he answered at last. “I was fourteen. It was just a stupid little crush. Guess when it came down to it, Alya and I had more in common.” He glanced at Adrien quickly but found nothing in the other boy’s expression. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Marinette,” he added. “She’s awesome.”

 

Adrien hummed in agreement, sucking in a quick breath as Nino executed a combo.

 

“Would have been really awkward anyway-- YEAH!” Nino dropped the controller, jumped up from his seat and did a little victory dance.

 

_ Crap, gotta get back in the game _ , Adrien thought, bringing the menu up and selecting a power up before the final round. Something tickled in the back of his mind as Nino sat back down and made his own selections.

 

“What do you mean, ‘awkward’?”

 

Nino stuck his tongue out a bit, doing some quick calculations to decide on the best stats for his mecha. “Trying to date a girl who’s got a crush on your best bud--” he stopped, suddenly, and gulped. “Shit.”

 

“Crush?” Adrien blinked.

 

Heaving a sigh and setting aside the controller, Nino ran his hands down his face and took a moment to consider the situation. “Yeah, look, I shouldn’t have said-- just pretend I didn’t say anything, okay?”

 

Well, it was a nice thought for the three seconds it lasted.

 

“Marinette has a crush on me?”

 

“No?” He cast a helpless glance at his best friend. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I’m not even supposed to know.” Nino idly wondered if he should give Alya a heads-up on the situation.  _ Do they have something like witness protection for this kind of thing? Okay, Nino, damage control. _

 

“Look; this zoo thing was over two years ago. And anyway, I talked to her about it a few weeks back and now she’s seeing someone else. So. No big deal, right?”

 

Adrien’s expression was unreadable and Nino started to wonder if he was even breathing.

 

“How about we switch to table hockey?” Nino ventured.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Adrien replied, voice distant. He stood from the couch and followed his best friend across the room when the second revelation suddenly sunk in. “Wait. What do you mean you talked to her about it? About what?”

 

Nino stuck his head under the table, searching for the missing puck. “Like I said, it’s been over two years. I basically told her to stop being a spaz and move on.”

 

Adrien tossed the puck he’d located onto the table and started the scoreboard. Nino was a good guy. His heart was in the right place but it was with barely concealed irritation that Adrien asked, “why did you do that?”

 

“You’re my best bud, man! I know you hate the way the girls treat you like some kind of trophy. Besides, Marinette’s a sweet girl; she’s better than that. It really annoyed me to see her fangirling.”

 

The game began in earnest with the associated whooping and cheering. After a few minutes, Nino realized the jubilation was entirely one-sided, despite the fact that both of them were scoring. He took a glance at his friend and was startled to see the pensive, frowning expression on his face.

 

“Dude,” he drawled, the potential irony putting a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “are you crushing on Marinette?”

 

Adrien stumbled and missed as he leaned to catch the puck. “What? No! She’s just a --”

 

“-- friend. Yeah, I know.” Nino sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped. The truth is, I was a little irritated with her. Remember that class trip we took to  _ Jardin des Plantes _ ? I had something important I wanted to ask Alya but then we ran into your fencing friend and suddenly Alya’s back in Marinette support mode for the whole damn trip.”

 

“Marinette is jealous of Kagami?”

 

Nino shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but it makes sense, right? Anyway, it all worked out for the best. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she’s been a lot happier lately.”

 

He didn’t say as much, but Adrien agreed with the assessment. She’d been a little calmer the last few weeks and had worn a bright smile all day at school.  _ Yeah, but she’s probably just excited about Polimoda _ , he rationalized. Which, now that he thought about it, was actually good news for him, too. With a friend there, perhaps spending the next few years immersed in fashion business classes wouldn’t be so dreadful.

 

Adrien leaned, predicting the trajectory of Nino’s next move and deftly intercepting the puck. It clacked straight across the table at high speed, sinking into the goal. With that, the scoreboard buzzed and the tie was broken.

 

Nino put on a show of pouting, but Adrien’s heart felt oddly lighter than it had in a long time.

***

 

Across the mansion, Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the closed-circuit playback. Nathalie still wasn’t sure she’d made the right call in alerting him to the situation. If her suspicions were correct, this information would be detrimental to both Agreste men.

 

“It could be a glitch,” she haltingly suggested.

 

Gabriel didn’t deign to reply to such a ridiculous idea. There it was, clear as day. A slice of pizza floating across his son’s room. It had lifted, unaided, from the box on the coffee table, hovered a moment, and then drifted away. 

“Maybe Nooroo--”

 

“Don’t insult me,” Gabriel shot back, silencing his assistant. “Nooroo is forbidden from leaving my side.” As if to underscore the point, the purple kwami slipped out from behind his master and hovered before the black and white screen.

 

Gabriel started the playback again, pausing at the moment the phantom pizza started its traversal. “Nooroo, you once told me that your kind were invisible to photography. I assume the same is true of videotape?”

 

“Yes, Master,” the kwami replied in quiet reluctance.

 

“I thought you’d already ascertained that Adrien wasn’t Chat Noir?”

 

Gabriel grunted and stood back from the display to pace his office. “I myself used a ruse to divert Ladybug,” he reminded her. “Adrien is no fool.”

 

Nathalie watched her employer stride back and forth, his expression indicating he was building a plan. “What are you going to do,” she asked when the silence became too heavy.

 

He paused. “Nothing. I need to be certain, first. And then--”

 

“He misses her, too,” Nathalie pondered aloud.

 

“Indeed. Perhaps this will work in my favor.” Gabriel turned a speculative glance on his assistant. “I was irritated that you permitted the Lahiffe boy into my home. Given the circumstances, however, I will overlook this transgression.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Nathalie gave him a nod and turned on her heel to exit the office. She would do anything for Monsieur Agreste. Still, a coil of discomfort tightened in her stomach as the possible consequences for his son loomed large. Despite appearances, she had a soft spot for the young man. Adrien respected his father, doing exactly what was asked of him.

 

She couldn’t help but wonder: just how far would that loyalty go?  


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter has had more edits than anything I've ever written before.
> 
> Doesn't help that my kiddo keeps interrupting every 5 minutes with a dire emergency. Like popping the roof back on the PJ Masks cat car. \sigh
> 
> I've updated the chapter count. It will probably change again. Honestly, I didn't expect this to go past 10 chapters when I started and well, here we are. There is an actual outline for this story and we're about halfway through so I'm projecting an even 25.

_ “...leave me a message when you get this so I know you’re okay? Um… all right--” _

 

Adrien sighed and switched off his voicemail. He’d routed a quick thumbs-up emoticon through the messaging app -- how on Earth did their weapons keep up to date with technology, anyway? -- and was now perusing the selection of fresh flowers for a proper apology gift.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Brows furrowed in thought, Adrien scanned the shop once more before turning to the proprietor. “What kind of flower says ‘I’m sorry’?”

 

The older man chuckled. “In trouble with the girlfriend, hm? I usually recommend the ‘Mister Lincoln’. It’s a red rose with a deep fragrance.” He winked and leaned in as though conspiring with his patron. “The scent will pull her in immediately and she’ll completely forget to be angry.”

 

“She’s just a friend,” Adrien corrected. He was taking a big risk going with flowers again, but maybe context made a difference? His prior offerings were romantic overtures. This time he only wanted to extend an olive branch of sorts.  _ Come to think of it, perhaps an actual olive branch would be better _ , he thought. Redirecting his attention to the gentleman, Adrien added, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

 

“Unrequited love,” the proprietor inferred, his experienced eyes twinkling. “I’d still recommend red but I gather that you’d prefer something more subtle.” Adrien nodded, at which the old man clapped his hands together and strode over to the display case in the back. Extracting a vase of bright yellow blooms, he held up the selection with a flourish. “Sunsprite roses are also quite fragrant. This color symbolizes ‘friendship’ and ‘optimism’. Will you be seeing her today?”

 

Adrien shook his head. “No, tomorrow night.”

 

The old man pursed his lips and studied his inventory. With a thoughtful hum he extracted a sturdy stem with a closed bud and returned the vase to the refrigerator. He beckoned his customer to the front desk where he retrieved a small floral tube and a length of light pink ribbon. “For ‘admiration’,” he explained as he tied it around the tube and stuck the flower inside.

 

Adrien paid the florist and began his trek home. It wasn’t a long walk and the Gorilla had the day off, affording him the opportunity to enjoy a bit of sunshine and fresh air. His boys’ night with Nino had been good for his mood. They’d agreed not to mention Nino’s slip-up to Alya or Marinette. If Marinette wanted him to know, surely she would have said something by now?

 

Still, Adrien couldn’t deny that a small part of him was flattered at the revelation. There was no denying that Marinette was attractive in her own right. She possessed the same kind of brave spirit and quick-witted creativity that he loved about Ladybug. She was also objectively quite pretty, with sparkling blue eyes and an adorable button nose-- 

 

“Look out!”

 

The voice shot across the street and virtually slapped Adrien’s heart. He froze and the ground dropped out from beneath his feet.

 

_ Ladybug! _

 

Turning suddenly, he almost lost his balance. With frantic eyes he searched the crowd around him.

 

Her voice had faded, lost in the background noise of traffic and chattering pedestrians. Adrien was nonetheless sure it originated at the pizzeria across the street. A few tables were arrayed along the sidewalk, all of them occupied, but it was the second to last table that drew his rapt attention. There, with her back to the street, sat a young woman with blue-black hair tied up in pigtails. 

 

Adrien couldn’t breathe.

 

She reached to the side, grabbing for her clutch.

 

Her pink and white polka dot clutch.

 

_ Oh.  _ Adrien’s shoulders slumped as the adrenaline surge dissipated, leaving a mild chill in its place _. I’m so far gone I’m projecting her voice onto my friends now _ , he thought with chagrin.

 

Across the street, Marinette extracted a handkerchief from her bag and leaned forward to wipe a bit of splashed soda water off her companion’s face. She laughed at something he said, finished patting him dry and leaned back in her seat.

 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we finished eating,” Luka laughed, eyeing the broken bottle of Perrier the server had dropped beside him. “Shall we?”

 

Marinette nodded. The pair rose from their table and meandered past the other diners, coming to a stop beside a motorcycle parked on the street. Luka took her hands in his and for a moment seemed to study her. Marinette felt her cheeks flush under his ardent gaze. Their farewell lunch had been casual; a friendly meal before his ride back to Vienna. She told him of her acceptance to Polimoda. He described his frightening experience with Truth Fairy--

 

“Oh my!” she’d exclaimed, “you must have been terrified for Juleka!”

 

\-- and the two exchanged theories about Anarka’s relationship with Jagged Stone. Now, standing on the sidewalk with Luka’s hands gently caging hers, Marinette could feel the weight of anticipation in the air around them.

 

“Marinette,” Luka began haltingly, “these last couple of weeks have been incredible. I’m not sure how I’m going to go back to school without thinking about you every waking moment.”

 

“Luka…” she breathed. The deep tenor of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

 

“Last night’s show was Kitty Section’s last,” he revealed. “Some of my friends at school are starting up a band. We’re building up a fan base already and hope to go on tour next summer.” Luka read the unspoken question in the quirk of Marinette’s brow. “Juleka’s heart hasn’t really been in Kitty Section since she and Rose broke up and it’s just a hobby for Ivan,” he drifted off, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “You’re incredible, Marinette. Do you know how much you mean to me? I can’t stop telling my friends about how talented you are.” 

 

Taking a deep breath he plowed on, hoping the momentum would break through his unusually jittery nerves. “I know you’re still a couple of months from finishing lycee, and then you’ll probably be going to school in Italy, but it’s only for four years, right? Austria isn’t that far away, rail passes are dirt cheap right now--”

 

“Luka,” Marinette interrupted him with gentle concern, “you’re babbling.”

 

“Right.” He took another edifying breath and met her eyes. “I know long distance is hard but to be with you… it’s worth it. We can take turns visiting on the weekends. Spend our holidays together here in Paris. When you’ve finished school, you can join us on tour. See the world. You could design our costumes and promotional materials. Just imagine how incredible it would be.”

 

Marinette lifted a hand to cup his cheek, bittersweet tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Luka,” she crooned, “you are one of the sweetest, most thoughtful men I’ve ever met. A girl would be an idiot to let you go.” She sighed. “And...I guess that makes me an idiot.”

 

His eyes closed, commiting the warmth of her hand on his skin to memory. A beat passed and he looked away. His expression shifted for a moment from defeat to irritation and then a glimmer of something else -- envy? “It’s Adrien, isn’t it?” he murmured.

 

“No...yes...” Marinette dropped her hand and shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s true that I still have feelings for him, but that’s not-- I don’t want to hurt you, Luka. You deserve the truth. There’s... someone else.”

 

Luka searched her expression and saw the gentle sincerity in her eyes. “Someone else?”

 

“It’s nothing serious,” Marinette hastened to add. “But he’s been a dear friend of mine for a while, and I’m starting to realize... that maybe my feelings go deeper than friendship.”

 

“He’s a lucky man,” Luka whispered, voice rough with emotion. “I hope he treats you like the precious gift you are.”

 

Smiling fondly, Marinette stepped closer, taking back the hand she’d released. “And I hope you find the wonderful woman who will be your forever muse,” she murmured in reply. 

 

She hadn’t heard him in the din, so Adrien navigated closer to the edge of the sidewalk. “Marinette!” He started to raise his hand in a wave.

 

Marinette lifted herself up onto her toes, her heart fluttering in her chest. “Be safe, Luka.” She kissed him softly, telling him without words of her adoration and regret.

 

Luka deepened the kiss, capturing every last drop of tenderness she offered; enough to last a lifetime. It was petty, but he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride knowing Adrien was watching. Luka had stepped back before. It wasn’t his fault that the other man hadn’t seized the opportunity. And now he’d lost her.

 

Adrien thought it was embarrassment that tugged at his heart and made his face flush. Hands clenched, the floral tube in his right fist bit into the flesh of his palm. He tried to turn away but was paralyzed. The pair separated and Luka mounted his motorcycle. It started up with a rumble Adrien could feel even meters away. Marinette waved him off as Luka sped down the street with a puff of smoke billowing in his wake.

 

As though waking from a dream, Adrien felt his feet beneath him once again. His thoughts were jumbled when he resumed his trek back home. Luka was the boy Marinette was seeing? He hadn’t thought to ask Nino for details on that point. After all, Marinette was just a friend. It didn’t matter who she wanted to date, right?

 

Still, his face was hot and his jaw tight with an emotion that most definitely was not embarrassment. Trudging home, Adrien couldn’t decide if his animosity was on Ladybug’s behalf--

 

\-- or Marinette’s.

 

***

 

Ladybug could already see the shadowy figure of Chat Noir pacing the middle tier of the Eiffel Tower as she approached early Sunday evening. His message the prior afternoon aside, it wasn’t until she’d spotted him that the tension she’d been holding in her shoulders ebbed.

 

“Hey,” she greeted as she landed gracefully on the platform.

 

Chat straightened and closed the short distance between them, presenting the yellow rose he had in his grasp. “I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he explained in lieu of a greeting. “I shouldn’t have let you worry.”

 

Ladybug blinked and Chat was sure she would laugh at him and his nonsense gift. Instead, she smiled and plucked the stem from his grip, her fingertips brushing his thumb as she did so. “You don’t need to apologize,” she insisted. “Thursdays are voluntary, after all. Sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one with a whole other life outside of this suit,” she grinned.

 

Chat made no move to respond, standing awkwardly and looking curiously troubled. Ladybug frowned. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied at last. “I just had a rough few days.”

 

“Anything I can help with?” Ladybug offered.

 

“No,” he rattled off, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was hiding from her.

 

Ladybug bit her lip. She’d been right to worry. Chat was clearly troubled and she was pretty sure she knew why. Anxious, she shuffled her feet. “Look, about what I said the other day--”

 

A glimmer of dread crossed his face, which he quickly smothered with a fake smile. “Sorry LB. No take backs. You’re going to be Bugaboo until the day we die.”

 

Ladybug saw right through him and frowned. “No, Chat, I meant about--”

 

“Don’t,” he interrupted again. His heart couldn’t take the conversation she wanted to have. “You don’t need to say anything. Who you date...it’s none of my business, right? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”   
  


She opened her mouth to argue that she wasn’t but it was as if a dark cloud surrounded him and Ladybug didn’t know if anything she said would make it go away.

 

Chat closed his eyes, praying she’d drop the subject. The memory of Luka and Marinette tugged at him and he wondered, again, if he should tell her. Would it even make sense? He didn’t know just how serious her relationship with Luka was. And as much as it hurt, it was true that her love life was none of his business.

 

Clearing her throat, Ladybug nodded. “Okay. I-- I guess we should get started. You take North and I take South?”

 

Chat jerked his head in acknowledgement and was off before another word passed between them.

 

An hour later, he landed on the platform behind her. “All clear,” he reported. “Have a good week.”

 

“Wait!” 

 

Ladybug reached for him, and Chat startled at the sound of her voice so close behind him. Steadying himself, he peered at her over his shoulder. 

 

“It’s a beautiful evening for stargazing. You might even say it’s purrfect,” she winked but her voice was subdued, shy. “What do you say?”

 

Confused, Chat turned back to face his partner. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

 

“Sure,” she acknowledged, “but it’s only nine.”

 

“Oh.”

 

His posture screamed of discomfort and Ladybug almost withdrew the invitation. Instead, she steeled her nerves and plowed ahead. “What do you say?” she prompted at last, fighting the blush that wanted to color her cheeks.

 

Chat remained immobile for a moment. With a deep breath, he made his decision and found a place on the ledge to settle down, dangling his feet over the edge. Relieved, Ladybug took her seat beside him. In the square below, a gaggle of girls bearing shopping bags from Paris’ finest establishments were piling noisily into a large sedan. Their jubilant voices drifted upward, carrying the off key notes of the birthday song.

 

From the corner of her eye, Ladybug noted the faraway expression on Chat’s face.

 

“You know,” she broke the silence between them, “we’ve been doing this for over two years and I just realized that I don’t know when your birthday is.”

 

Chat frowned. “You never wanted to exchange identifying information,” he pointed out.

 

“True, but there are two million people in Paris. Assuming you are, in fact, a boy behind that mask,” she snickered but he didn’t take the bait, “that leaves over two thousand people who share your birthday.” He made no move to speak. “Mine is in August,” she volunteered.

 

“Next month,” he replied quietly.

 

She turned to face him, an excited grin on her face. “Oh! That’s coming up very soon! Any big plans?”

  
Chat shrugged. “It’s just another day.”

 

Ladybug’s eyes widened and she waggled a chastising finger in his face. “That’s patently untrue,” she insisted. “It’s the anniversary of the day you came into the world! What could possibly be more important than that?”

 

“I suppose,” Chat agreed, though it was clear he didn’t.

 

Silence settled between them, thick and stifling. Chat couldn’t remember ever feeling so wrong in the presence of his partner. Had things really changed that much between them? How could they possibly work together like this? He couldn’t stand to stay another second. Perhaps one day things would be okay again but now…

 

Chat rose from his seat. “Well, I’d better get home.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Ladybug stood up beside him. Her gregarious kitty had barely spoken the entire evening. No puns. No come ons. She was starting to wonder if he’d been replaced with a sentimonster. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

Chat summoned up years of experience and pasted on a smile. “Sure. I’ll see you Thursday.”

 

Ladybug’s eyes followed his path until his figure melded into the night sky. Sighing, she returned to the rafter she’d used to stash her yellow rose. It’s petals were perfectly shaped, unadulterated, and the satin ribbon tied to the plastic tube fluttered cheerfully in the evening breeze.

 

Chat would be turning eighteen next month -- a milestone birthday. Surely that warranted some kind of celebration? An idea formed in her mind and she tilted her head up to smile at the crescent moon above. Vaulting out into the night, Ladybug let her worries about her partner’s mood fall away in the breeze.

 

She had some planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming soon:
> 
> André must have psychic abilities.


	14. Chapter 14

Dr. Gros stifled a yawn and rolled his shoulders. Meeting friends for tapas the night before an early session was a mistake. Teen heartache was simple enough, but something told the doctor that his patient’s current crisis was going to go deeper than five hours of sleep would allow.

 

“So let’s review,” he cleared his throat. “You became aware that ‘Elle’ wasn’t quite as in love with this other boy as you’d been led to believe. The resulting embarrassment then caused you to lash out in anger toward her?”

 

“Yes, but I realized later that I wasn’t mad at her.” He sighed, “I was mad at myself.” Falling back against the couch in resignation, he rested his head on the cushion and stared at the ceiling tiles. “She was trying to spare my feelings. I would rather she gave it to me straight, but,” another sigh, “I guess if I’m being honest… I probably wouldn’t have stopped trying even if she had.”

 

Adrien closed his eyes. Memories of Ladybug flooded his mind. Her sad smiles when he tried to extend their patrols. The way she held herself, arms crossed defensively in front of her as he tossed out another flirty come on. Her voice, telling him over and over: move on. I don’t want you. I love someone else.

 

“Why can’t I let her go?” his voice broke.

 

Dr. Gros grabbed the tissue box from beside his chair and set it onto the coffee table between them. “That’s a good question,” he encouraged. “One that only you can answer.”

 

“She’s just so perfect, you know?”

 

“Is she, though? No one is perfect, Adrien.”

 

“Perfect for me, then,” he adjusted, his voice petulant.

 

Dr. Gros quirked a brow. “So perfect that she keeps turning you down.”

 

Adrien sat up and his eyes were fiery with determination. “We’re meant to be together. I’m sure of it.”

 

“Okay, but while you’re waiting for her to figure that out, what is she doing?” Sometimes his patients needed a figurative slap in the face, even if he was a little blunt. “Let’s come at this another way. You are, in fact, a teen heartthrob, are you not? So many lovely young women throughout Paris -- the world, even -- would give their right arm just to talk to you for a few minutes.”

 

“I tried going out with someone else,” Adrien mumbled. “It didn’t help.”

 

And there it was. Dr. Gros wasn’t terribly surprised by the confession. Adrien hadn’t spoken of any romantic interests -- female or otherwise -- in their sessions to date. It was rather unusual for a young man of his age to completely neglect that aspect of his daily life. Which meant either his patient was entirely asexual and aromantic or-- there was a deeper issue at play. 

 

Again he cursed his lack of forethought and took a large gulp of his extra-caffeinated morning coffee. This situation provided him the segue he needed to address the metaphorical elephant in the room, but he would have to tread carefully.

 

“You said you’ve been infatuated with this young woman for two years now, correct? And she told you pretty much immediately that she wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with you.”

 

Adrien wouldn’t meet his eyes, but nodded his head.

 

“Human beings are creatures of habit,” Dr. Gros explained, “and we are drawn to the familiar. It brings us comfort -- even if what is familiar isn’t good for us.”

 

“Like drinking too much soda,” Adrien mumbled.

 

“Exactly. Comfort food is an excellent example. Here’s another one: seeking out the same kind of dysfunctional relationship over and over. There’s actually a term for it: repetition compulsion.”

 

“My friendship with ‘Elle’ is dysfunctional?”  
  


“Not the friendship, necessarily,” he clarified. “But some people consistently chase after new relationships which mirror the failed relationships of their past. They seek -- subconsciously -- to right the wrongs of the past by fixing them in the present.”

 

“I’m not sure I follow,” Adrien admitted.

 

“I don’t think you’re in love with ‘Elle’,” he suggested. “You want her approval. You haven’t been getting the approval you need -- _deserve_ \-- from your father and I think you’re projecting that need onto your model friend. This is not an uncommon behavioral pattern.” Dr. Gros paused a moment, infusing gentleness into his voice. “Especially in victims of abuse.”

 

Adrien froze like a deer caught in the headlights. “Abuse..?” He shook his head. “N-no… you don’t mean me, right? My father would never--”

 

“Physical abuse is what most people think of when they hear the word,” Dr. Gros acknowledged, “but it’s by no means the only kind. There’s sexual abuse, verbal, psychological,” he paused, leveling a meaningful gaze on his patient, “emotional.”

 

Adrien tried several times to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. It was a predictable response. Victim hood was a difficult thing to confront, even for adults. Dr. Gros rose from his chair and strode to his bookshelf. Locating the object of his search -- a thick, leather-bound medical text -- he returned to his seat and sought out a section in the middle of the book.

 

“Emotional abuse,” he read aloud. “The debasement of a person's feelings, causing the individual to perceive himself as inept, not cared for, and worthless.” He scanned a few paragraphs before continuing. “In pediatrics, emotional abuse is characterized by the infliction of coercive, demeaning and/or overly distant behavior by a parent or other caretaker, interfering with the child’s normal social or psychological development.”

 

Adrien shook his head again. “My father, he wouldn’t-- Father isn’t a bad person.”

 

Denial, a necessary first step. Setting the book aside, Dr. Gros leaned forward. “I’m not necessarily saying that he is, Adrien.” In order for his patient to move forward he would have to recognize and acknowledge the trauma. Only then could the real work of healing begin.

 

“Let’s stipulate that your father is not a super villain,” Dr. Gros granted with a smile. “He’s human, and humans are imperfect beings. I have no doubt that your father loves you; he’s doing his best, in his own way. Perhaps he was the victim of abuse himself. But: that doesn’t excuse his behavior. It doesn’t excuse neglect. It doesn’t excuse withholding affection. It doesn’t excuse stunting your social and emotional growth."

 

“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with La-- with my friend.”

 

Dr. Gros saw the deflection as the defense mechanism it was. Having his childhood called into question undoubtedly shook Adrien to the core. It would take time for him to process his emotions and view his past through this new perspective.

 

“Some studies support the theory that emotional abuse is actually more damaging -- long term -- than physical abuse,” the doctor ventured. “Being a somewhat invisible trauma, it’s often not recognized. It’s also self-supporting; after a while, the victim internalizes a self-concept reinforcing a view of themselves as fundamentally unworthy.”

 

Adrien felt nauseated. This couldn’t be right. Grasping at straws, he returned to the original subject. “Are you saying I _want_ ‘Elle’ to reject me?”

 

“I’m saying that you _expect_ rejection. In spite of your accomplishments and all of your very commendable qualities, your own father has repeatedly denied you the validation all children seek from their guardians. Perhaps your mother was able to shelter you from this rejection, at least for a time. Now that she’s gone…” he let the implication hang. “If only you could find the right words. If only you could meet one more challenge. Maybe then ‘Elle’ would see you. Maybe your _father_ would see you.”

 

“That’s what Kagami was trying to tell me,” Adrien speculated quietly. “She said I was focusing too much on technique when I should have been adjusting my target.”

 

Dr. Gros smiled. “Your friend Kagami sounds like a wise young woman.”

 

The clock on the wall ticked closer to eight, bringing their session to a close. Cases such as Adrien’s sat firmly in a grey area preventing the doctor from taking any direct action on his behalf. Dr. Gros withdrew a business card from his shirt pocket and jotted a phone number on the back before handing it over the table.

 

“This is my personal cell,” he explained. “We’ve covered a lot of ground today and you may struggle to see your life in this new context. We’ll meet again in one week. In the meantime, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me directly.”

 

A blast of cold air hit Adrien’s face when he left the doctor’s office. Perhaps he should have asked his driver to wait around after all. He burrowed his nose into his favorite blue scarf and turned toward school.

 

Plagg peeked out of Adrien’s jacket, a sly grin on his face. “So Ladybug is a model, now?” 

 

Adrien shrugged. “A _role_ model, anyway. What was I supposed to tell Dr. Gros? My coworker ‘Elle’ is actually Ladybug and oh, by the way -- I’m Chat Noir?”

 

“Good point. You should have told him you were Viperion,” Plagg snickered.

 

If looks could kill. The black kwami ducked back into his safe haven but he couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face. A few minutes passed before Plagg spoke again. “I like that head doctor,” he confided. “So you going to stop chasing after Ladybug?”

 

Adrien heaved a sigh and peered up at the blue sky above. “I know I need to,” he mused. “I can’t keep torturing myself like this.”

 

Plagg tapped a paw to his chin in thought. “What about one of your classmates? Like the baker’s daughter! She’s hilarious.”

 

“Whatever happened to ‘forget the ladies and stick with cheese?’”

 

Plagg shrugged. “I stand by that advice, actually.”

 

Adrien walked into the history classroom with five minutes to spare. A crowd gathered around Max toward the back of the room, faces rapt with amazement. Apart from the group, Marinette sat hunched over her sketchpad, her pencil scratching quickly over the paper.

 

“What’s up with the Max huddle?” Adrien asked, setting his backpack down.

 

Peering over her shoulder, Marinette smiled. “Ladybug dropped in at the arcade when he was closing up last night. Something about a favor.”

 

 _That’s weird_ , Adrien thought. Ladybug and Chat Noir rarely called in favors; neither made a habit of using their miraculous for personal gain. Whatever Ladybug wanted from Max, it must have been important.

 

“So, what are you working on?”

 

“Huh?” Marinette’s brow knit, perplexed, and Adrien pointed at the sketches she’d drawn. “Oh! I’m prototyping some designs for the grad dance.”

 

Adrien plopped onto his seat and turned around to get a closer look. “Are you going to make your own dress?”

 

“That’s the plan,” she affirmed.

 

The concepts were clearly in their infancy, but she’d managed to capture the essence of her vision with just a few shapes and colors. Truly, she was quite talented.

 

“Green?”

 

Marinette paused, considering her work. “Too bold?”

 

Humming in thought, Adrien shook his head. “No, it’s a great color but,” he paused, “it doesn’t really say ‘Marinette’.” The thought occurred to him suddenly that she hadn’t asked his opinion in the first place. “Actually, forget I said anything. This is your dress. It looks amazing.”

 

“I can handle criticism,” she maintained, picking up a yellow pencil.

 

Adrien watched her work in companionable silence. “You know,” he started abruptly, “I’m going to be doing a formalwear shoot next Thursday afternoon. You should come.”

 

A brief pause in her work was the only indication that she’d heard him. Before Marinette could speak Adrien felt the vigorous clap of Nino’s hand on his back.

 

“Hey bro! Your schedule is open today, right?” He dropped his bag on the floor and took a seat, awaiting Adrien’s reply.

 

Brow raised, he nodded.

 

“In that case, call off Gorizilla. We’re going out for birthday ice cream today.”

 

Alya slid into her seat beside Marinette and scrunched her nose. “It’s a little cold for ice cream, isn’t it?”

 

“Whose birthday?” Adrien questioned.

 

“Yours, bro!”

 

“But my birthday isn’t for another two weeks…?”

 

Nino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and your dad is going to be down for a party this time, right? The last two years were a total fluke.” Adrien’s expression was conflicted and Nino groaned. “It’s ice cream, man. Please don’t make me take up the bubble wand again, ‘cuz I will.”

 

Alya snorted and Marinette hid her exasperation behind a wry smile.

 

“All right,” Adrien agreed at last.

 

Nino pumped his fist and stood to address the class. “Yo! Ice cream party at André’s after school!”

 

“Ridiculous,” Chloe huffed. “Ice cream parties are for children.”

 

“Then don’t come,” Alya shot back.

 

Chloe was gaping, indignant, when Madame Peletier entered the room. “All right class, to your seats. We have a lot to cover before finals.”

 

****

 

The school day passed into a breezy, sunny afternoon. Much like the pollen fluttering around, Marinette was practically floating.

 

“Okay,” Alya laughed and reached out to stop her in her tracks. “Not that I’m complaining, but you’ve been super cheerful the last few days. What’s up?”

 

“I have no idea,” Marinette chirped. “I just feel happy!”

 

Alya leaned in. “I saw you talking to Adrien before class this morning. And come to think of it, you were actually early today!” Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Alya lowered her voice. “You aren’t back to crushing on him again are you?”

 

“What? No!”

 

Alya continued to stare at her. “I see the bubbles, Marinette. The pink, floaty bubbles. Look, there’s one right now.”

 

Marinette rolled her eyes in good humor and started back down the sidewalk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted. “But, I will tell you this,” her smile turned sly, “if I were crushing on someone… it’s not Adrien.”

 

“So who…?”

 

“Nope!” Marinette laughed, practically dancing away.

 

“That’s not fair!” Alya whined.

 

It was risky even letting Alya know there was someone else, but Marinette couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. Her phone pinged, and she swiped the home screen to read the incoming message.

 

“Kagami spotted André at Trocadéro,” she called out to the group walking ahead of them.

 

Alya frowned. “Kagami’s coming?”

 

“I invited her,” Marinette replied. “She’s one of Adrien’s’ friends, after all.” Putting her phone away, she could feel Alya’s disbelieving stare. “What?”

 

“Wow. You weren’t kidding, were you?” Alya grinned. “I’m proud of you Marinette. I might even forgive you for keeping this mysterious crush a secret. For now, anyway,” she winked.

 

Twenty minutes later the group of teenagers closed in on their destination. André gave them a jaunty wave of his ice cream scoop at the sight of them, his face stretched with an enthusiastic grin. A line quickly formed beside the cart.

 

“Italy has the best gelato,” Lila insisted, “but I suppose this will do. Adrien, you absolutely must let me take you to the _gelateria_ when you’re at Polimoda.”

 

“André’s ice cream is so much more than gelato,” Rose interjected in her usual sing-song voice. “He’s serving up love!”

 

“Indeed, mademoiselle,” André trumpeted. “And I have only been wrong once,” he shot a glance at Marinette, “allegedly.”

 

Having served Marc and Nathaniel, André turned his attention fully on Lila. She peered over the flavor listings, unimpressed. “We’ll see about that,” she hummed. “I guess I’ll have--”

 

“Oh, Lila, let André choose!” Rose squealed. “It’s like magic -- he can look into your heart and see the love inside!”

 

“Fine, fine,” she waved her hand flippantly. “Whatever.”

 

The ice cream man studied her for a moment. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips as he reached down for a scoop of orange sherbert, “for her bold fashion sense,” and topped it with a second scoop of milk chocolate, “for her rich brown locks.”

 

 _Perhaps I gave André too little credit_ , Marinette snickered to herself as Lila sauntered off with her cone of narcissism.

 

Alya accepted her and Nino’s usual order next, walking off to find a table. Nino paid André for their cone and handed over extra to cover the birthday boy. 

“Let’s see now,” André wiped off the scoop and surveyed his inventory. “Strawberry with bla--” he stopped, frowning. “Hm. The strawberry doesn’t look right today,” he mused, nonplussed. “No matter,” he smiled once again, “I have just the thing: raspberry with white chocolate chips!” He piled the pink scoop onto a cone, and went back to dip the next two flavors, “blackberry for her raven hair and blueberry for her bright sky stare. _Voila_!”

 

“Thank you,” Adrien smiled, taking possession of his ice cream cone and walking away to join his friends.

 

After him, Sabrina delighted in her lemon cone and Rose paid for her rainbow of flavors before Marinette found herself at the front of the line.

 

 

“Welcome back, Marinette! Let’s see, peach for--” André stopped, his expression baffled once again. “I’m all out of peach.” He looked over his customer and then cast a curious glance toward the picnic table where Adrien was plucking a flyaway napkin out of the air.

 

“I’m not really in a peach mood anyway,” Marinette shrugged.

 

“Just as well,” André agreed. “Let’s see then. Ah! A rich, dark chocolate -- I made it fresh this morning. And to top it off, a little bit of contrast. Tart lemon for his locks of gold and perhaps,” he hummed, scanning his inventory. “Yes! Lime for his eyes and the secrets they hold.”

 

Marinette paid for her cone and grabbed a few napkins when she noticed Kagami approaching the cart. “Glad you could make it,” she welcomed. 

 

“Thanks for inviting me,” Kagami returned. “I can’t stay long; Mother is doing a demonstration at _École Japonaise de Paris_ and she’ll need me for the second half of the presentation. Is Adrien here?”

 

From the picnic table, Alya watched as Marinette pointed Kagami toward them. “That’s interesting,” she observed.

 

“What?” Nino pulled the cone from Alya’s grasp and took a huge lick off the top.

 

At the table beside theirs, Mylène leaned back to see Kagami and Marinette walking toward them. “Oh, wow. Completely different cone this time.”

 

Adrien followed their stares, wondering what the commotion was all about. “What does she normally get?”

 

“Peach for his lips and mint for his eyes,” Nino mumbled, mouth full. Alya slapped him on the arm, then quickly turned to greet Marinette as she approached.

 

“Look who’s here!” Marinette introduced her companion, taking a seat on Alya’s other side.

 

Adrien stood, holding his cone out to the side as Kagami leaned in for a friendly hug. She pecked a quick kiss to his cheek and stepped back. “I’m afraid I can’t stay -- I just wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday.”

 

Adrien took his seat once again. “Today’s the demonstration, right?”

 

Kagami nodded. “Yes, Mother is hoping to recruit some new students for the dojo.”

 

“I hope it goes well. Please tell her I said hello.”

 

“Thank you, I will,” Kagami agreed. She bowed her head in farewell and addressed the rest of the table. “It was nice seeing you all again.”

 

The group waved goodbye in turns as she walked off. Adrien sat up suddenly and turned to Marinette. “Oh, I almost forgot -- Nathalie said she’ll arrange a pass for you to the shoot next week.”  
  


Marinette blinked. “You-- you were serious?”

 

“Well yeah,” he reached back to scratch at his neck nervously. “I mean, if you want to come. Sneak peek into the fall formal collection and all…”

 

“Y-yes, definitely!” Marinette stuttered. “It’s just th-that you mentioned coming to a photo shoot before and nothing came of it, s- so I thought…” She shook off the surprise. “Thank you.”

 

“How’s the ice cream,” Alya trilled innocently. She watched Marinette from the corner of her eye, but she made no move to reply.

 

“I was thinking maybe we could get something to eat afterwards,” Adrien added casually. “There’s a new dim sum restaurant around the corner from the studio.”

 

Marinette froze and Alya frowned beside her. “You mean, like--”

 

“Dinner,” Adrien clarified.

 

“Oh, um,” Marinette felt her face flush. A drop of ice cream dripped onto her thumb, which Alya wiped away with a napkin before nudging Marinette back to the present.

 

“We usually finish afternoon shoots at around six. By the time I’m back in my street clothes and we’ve walked to the restaurant, they should be open,” he continued.

 

 _What is happening?_ Marinette could feel the panic rising, but managed to keep her expression reasonably calm. _Dinner with Adrien? I’ve just decided to move on and now Adrien wants to have dinner?_ Tikki jabbed her from inside her purse, and then she remembered.

 

“Oh! I-- I can’t do dinner on Thursday,” she replied. “I have plans already.”

 

“You do?” Alya, stunned, turned to face Marinette. _Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?_

 

Marinette ignored her, taking the napkin from Alya’s hand and cleaning up the remaining drips off of her half-eaten cone. “But I’d still like to go to the shoot, i-if that’s okay?”

 

“Of course! It’ll be so much more fun with you there.” Adrien smiled fondly at the bit of yellow dotting her nose. She was so adorably messy. He licked his thumb and reached across the table to dab the tip of her nose, eliciting a few gasps from the other tables. Marinette blinked.

 

“Not very sanitary, Agreste,” Alya teased, but her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

 

The loud ping of Marinette’s phone broke the awkward silence that had settled on the table. She fumbled with her device, barely managing to open the text message with her free hand. “Oh! Maman needs me to help load up a catering order.” She practically jumped from the table, gathering up her trash and waving to her friends. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

 

Alya, pouting as Nino finished off the last of their shared cone, observed Adrien’s eyes trailing after Marinette across the park. A tickle of irritation poked at her conscience.

 

“Dude, did you seriously just ask Marinette on a date?”

 

Adrien popped the last bite of his cone into his mouth. _Did I?_ He shrugged. “She’s into fashion.”

 

“Mm-hm.” Nino didn’t bother to hide his smirk.

 

“Anyway, she’s seeing Luka, isn’t she?” The words tasted like bile on his tongue.

 

Alya studied him. “How did you know about that? Anyway, it wasn’t serious -- he’s back at school in Austria already.”

 

 _But she was kissing him_ , Adrien thought, confused. He twisted a napkin, gaze trained on the wooden surface of their table. “Oh. That’s good.”

 

“How so?” Alya interrogated, noting the contemplative expression on his face.

 

Adrien’s brow furrowed in thought. “Luka’s cool,” he allowed, “but I think Marinette can do better.”

 

“Luka,” Alya pointed out in a rising tone, “has been nothing short of wonderful with Marinette. He’s had a crush on her for over a year, but she kept turning him down for--” she caught herself, “someone else.”

 

 _I can sympathize with that_ , Adrien sighed. “Still, he doesn’t really seem like Marinette’s type.”

 

“And what do you know about her ‘type’?” Alya shot back.

 

Adrien grimaced. What had he done to upset Alya so much? “Marinette’s so sweet, and outgoing, and Luka--” he stopped. To be fair, there was nothing particularly wrong with him. _Aside from not keeping his lips to himself_ , the churlish thought appeared. “I heard Luka was seeing Ladybug,” he finished.

 

“Dude…!”

 

“Where the hell did you hear that?” Alya exclaimed, sitting forward eyes ablaze.

 

Adrien reached back to scratch at his neck. “I um-- overheard it.”

 

Alya shook her head. “No way. If Ladybug were seeing someone, it would be front page news on the Ladyblog.”

 

“Maybe you don’t know everything that Ladybug does,” he glowered, face flushing.

 

“Yeah?” Alya clenched her fists. “And what do you know, Agreste? You don’t even know who gave you your favorite scarf!” she reached across the table, tugging the blue fabric for effect.

 

“Al-” Nino’s eyes widened and he glanced quickly between his girlfriend and best friend in a mild panic. “Maybe we should drop it--”

 

“No,” Alya retorted. “Where do you get off having any opinion on Marinette’s love life?”

 

“I’m her friend, aren’t I?” Adrien shot back.

 

Alya sat back, eyes alight with indignation. “Yeah, her friend. And that’s all you’ll ever be so get over yourself.” She picked up her phone and turned to Nino. “C’mon, we’re out of here.”

 

Nino cleared his throat, taking in the eyes of their classmates watching the drama unfold. Best friend? Girlfriend? Well, shit. He stood up and turned a sheepish glance toward Adrien. The latter didn’t react, but the confusion and upset on his face was palpable.

 

As his best friend’s figure grew smaller in the distance, Adrien became aware of the furtive glances being sent in his direction. He turned his head away.

 

A cold breeze lifted his bangs and sent a shiver trickling down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Citation:  
> https://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/emotional+abuse


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey girl** **  
** **Hope you’re sitting down**

 

Marinette clipped the black yarn she held in her fingers a few inches past the last stitch. Setting the scissors and skein aside, she reached for her phone and tapped out a question mark in reply. Almost immediately, three little bubbles popped onto the screen.

 

**Nino told Adrien**

 

Confused, Marinette started to type another question mark before she felt her stomach drop. Her fingers hesitated over the screen a moment. Maybe Alya was talking about something else.

 

_Yeah, right_ , she thought in resignation. 

**When?**

 

**Last weekend.**

 

**It was an accident.**

 

Marinette promptly dropped her phone. _Shit..._ Taking a moment to compose herself -- and failing, miserably -- she reached down to retrieve the device. Alya, heedless of her friend’s minor panic attack, continued to pile on.

 

**My dear doofus also told Adrien you were** **  
** **seeing Luka.**

 

First, that wasn’t even accurate. Second, why would any of this matter to Adrien? Casting a longing glance toward her unfinished project, she sighed and stood up from her desk. Tikki watched in concern as Marinette started to pace.

**Luka left last weekend**

**I know**

**We cleared that up at least**

 

_Okay, this doesn’t need to be a disaster. I’m totally moving on; there’s no reason to be embarrassed at this point_ , Marinette rationalized.

 

**And… I might have unleashed bitch mode** **  
** **on him**

 

**Nino?**

 

**Adrien**

 

A headache was coming on, Marinette could feel it. Maybe she could use that as an excuse to miss school tomorrow? Except there was that review session for her upcoming history exam and she was already just barely keeping up.

 

**what did you do...**

 

**the flirting was getting ridiculous**

 

**Alya...**

 

**and he has no right to start getting** **  
** **all jealous now**

 

**what.** ****  
**did.** ****  
**you.** **  
** **do.**

 

**I might have told him to get over himself**

 

**and that all he’ll ever be is your friend**

 

She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the whole situation was. _If I don’t start crying first,_ she lamented. Plopping bonelessly onto her bed, she cuddled into her pillow as Tikki floated over to perch on her shoulder. Marinette scrolled to the beginning of the conversation so the kwami could catch up.

 

“Your friends really do like to stick their noses in, don’t they?” Tikki noted.

 

A mournful huff was the teen’s only response.

 

**oh get this -- Adrien heard a rumor that** **  
** **Ladybug and Luka were dating**

 

Tikki and Marinette exchanged a glance. Those kinds of rumors usually made it to Alya via the Ladyblog before anyone else heard a peep. Being the heroine herself, Marinette was one hundred percent certain that Ladybug was not dating anyone. Nor had she given anyone a reason to believe she was.

**where did he hear that?**

 

**didn’t say**

 

**kinda blew it off, actually**

 

**said that maybe I don’t know everything  
about Ladybug**

 

**ouch**

 

**yeah, that may have factored into my freak  
out**

 

**you don’t think he’s right, do you?** **  
** **maybe I missed a scoop**

 

Marinette felt a chill sweep down her spine as several thoughts coalesced into an unwelcome possibility. Adrien knew she had been seeing Luka. What if he was in the library when she’d made her embarrassing declaration during the last akuma attack?

 

“Tikki, do you think Adrien knows I’m Ladybug?”

 

The kwami appeared to consider the question before shrugging helplessly. “I don’t know, but it seems like he’d tell you if he did, right?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Adrien was intimately familiar with the pitfalls of celebrity. It was also possible that he’d chosen to respect her anonymity. She’d have to tread carefully around him. In the meantime, Alya’s anxiety was practically oozing through the screen in Marinette’s hands.

 

**if she’s seeing someone it wouldn’t be** **  
** **as Ladybug**

 

**I guess**

 

**I might do some sleuthing anyway**

 

**just in case**

 

Marinette sighed. There was no way to talk Alya out of a scoop. She could only hope her friend wouldn’t lose too much sleep over her pointless investigation. 

 

After typing out a quick ‘good luck!’ Marinette set her phone aside and stared up at the window above her bed. The sky was rapidly changing from the pastel pinks and blues of early evening into the deep purple of night. Her mother would be calling her down to dinner soon, and then there was homework to be done. She’d have to continue work on the scarf tomorrow.

 

****

 

_“...and that’s all you’ll ever be so get over yourself...”_

 

Adrien twirled the mechanical pencil between his fingers. Despite his best attempts to focus on his homework, Alya’s angry words continued to echo through his mind. Perhaps it had been unfair of him to judge Luka. Still, that didn’t quite explain why his words had upset Alya so much.

 

_“...distant behavior … interfering with … normal social development…”_

 

He’d been attending public school for over two years and still Adrien struggled to understand the nuances of the public school social scene. Kagami he understood. Chloe he understood -- to a degree. But then, weren’t Kagami and Chloe also the products of overbearing and dismissive parents? Was Dr. Gros right?

 

The limited time Adrien spent around Nino’s family was eye opening. His relationship with his parents was antagonistic at times, but it was affectionate in equal measure. Alya’s parents were very career-oriented but they still made time for their children -- as did Marinette’s mother and father. If the doctor was right about his stunted social development, then Adrien needed to get a handle on the situation quickly. Alienating the few friends he had was simply not an option.

 

Plagg phased into the mini fridge beside his desk as Adrien opened up a new tab on his browser. He paused, considering the empty search box staring back at him.

 

emotionally abusive parent

 

Several results populated the screen, varying from blogs to government health agencies and non-profit organizations. After clicking on a few, he folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward to scan the articles.

 

_Unable to respect boundaries, particularly in regard to reasonable requests_

_Consistently corrects “inappropriate” behavior_

_Belittles aspirations and accomplishments_

 

Adrien’s accomplishments were always in endeavors his father had chosen for him, and he didn’t bother to share his aspirations. Would his father belittle them if he did? He shoved the question to the back of his mind, unsettled by the nagging feeling that he wouldn’t like the answer.

 

_Gives condescending or dismissive looks and/or comments_

_Unable to admit to wrongdoing_

 

Perhaps not “unable”. It was more accurate to say “unwilling.” The distinction seemed laughably negligible even as Adrien contemplated it.

 

_Requires permission for trivial decisions inappropriate to age and maturity_

_Uses withdrawal or withholds affection_

 

Adrien’s frown deepened. What exactly constituted withholding affection? How much affection was normal between a father and his teenage son? He didn’t really have a basis of comparison. 

 

_Treats others as an extension of themselves_

_Deliberately isolates the victim from friends and other family members_

 

Cringing, Adrien recalled Nino’s words on his birthday two years ago. “Uncool.” Wanting to celebrate a friend’s birthday seemed so natural to Nino, but Adrien had known the request would fall on deaf ears. The incident led to his best friend’s akumatization and a few hours of misery for his classmates.

 

_Invades privacy_

 

Adrien sat up, feeling mildly vindicated. True, his father had enlisted Lila Rossi to help keep “bad influences” at bay, but was that really any different having a bodyguard? The alliance had been short lived anyway. It wasn’t as if his bedroom were bugged!

 

A little voice in the recesses of his mind whispered the word “denial”. Adrien resolved to ignore it. Gabriel Agreste was reclusive. He was a bit gruff and had high expectations. Surely that didn’t make him an abuser?

 

His room had fallen into darkness unnoticed as Adrien poured over his studies. He flipped on a desk light and decided to resume his homework. Reaching for the mouse to close the browser window, his eyes fell on the last bullet point on the list.

 

_Inspires fear through verbal abuse, outbursts, or mood_

 

The sound of smashing furniture.

Torn papers and broken artifacts scattered across the floor.

A cracked picture frame holding the smiling faces of the stick figure Agreste family.

 

Chat Noir had struggled to keep his expression neutral that day. He’d felt the guilt of his actions and the sadness of his father’s rejection deeply. Now, looking back on the day, his emotions twisted and mutated. Like a scratchy clothing tag, they abraded his subconscious.

 

Rejection. Bitterness. Defeat.

 

Distrust.

 

Having retrieved his precious from cold storage, Plagg started hopping along the keys of Adrien’s grand piano. The tune was chipper, a discordant soundtrack playing against his inner turmoil. 

 

Plagg could feel the oppressive melancholy exuding from Adrien in unrelenting waves. Finishing off his last wedge of cheese in a gulp, he landed on the middle C and crossed his paws in irritation. “You’re killing the mood, kid.” 

 

There was no response and Plagg grumbled, “I don’t know why you’re letting reporter girl get to you.”

 

“She’s not,” Adrien replied at last.

 

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “Seems like everyone wants to celebrate early, so I guess we can do this now.” Plagg started to heave and for a moment, Adrien wondered if his kwami was going to pass out. He leapt up from his desk chair as a round, wet ball of dark, grey fur popped out of the cat spirit’s mouth and landed between the G and A sharp.

 

“Plagg!” Adrien dashed for a tissue and retrieved the slimy mess with a wince. “Since when do you cough up hairballs?”

 

Plagg shrugged. “Happy birthday.”

 

The soggy lump dissolved in the folds of the tissue, leaving behind a black, teardrop shaped object on a leather cord. Obsidian? Adrien’s eyes shifted between the kwami and his slobbery gift. “Um. What is it?”

 

“Kwagatama, the traditional gift of a kwami to his miraculous holder,” he recited in a tone oozing apathy. “I could have given it to you sooner -- Tikki already gave Ladybug hers -- but you know I don’t do this mushy crap.”

 

Adrien inspected the necklace, befuddled. Traditional. This gift was meant to be something significant. His mood lifted marginally, smile subdued. “Thanks, Plagg.”

 

“Whatever,” he dismissed, stretching into a long yawn. Plagg floated off to his favorite spot in the world -- Adrien’s pillow -- and curled himself into a sleepy ball.

 

The vibration of his phone dragged Adrien’s attention back to his desk. He lifted it, the bright screen lighting up his face as his eyes widened in surprise.

 

**Hey - sorry about earlier**

 

An apology from Alya was unexpected, to say the least. Adrien still hadn’t a clue what had set her off in the first place. Unsure of how to reply, he opted for a quick, “no problem.”

 

A few minutes passed as it seemed Alya was struggling to formulate her own response.

 

**Nino told me you know about Mari’s crush** ****  


**I don’t want to see her get hurt**

 

Adrien didn’t know what to make of that. He’d never do anything to hurt his friends. She hadn’t seemed particularly that afternoon, but maybe he’d missed something?

 

**When did I hurt Marinette?**

 

**You didn’t but**

 

**Just be careful, ok?**

 

**Don’t start something if you’re not serious**

 

**Mari deserves better than that**

 

His short-lived relief at Alya’s apology was replaced with deeper confusion. He was inclined to ask what she meant by “starting something,” but decided to direct that question to Nino instead. It seemed Alya had a hair trigger where Marinette was concerned and Adrien didn’t want to set her off again.

 

A good night’s sleep is what he needed. Adrien put away his books and padded over to his bed, slipping under his luxurious duvet. He closed his eyes and burrowed into fluffy pillows, but sleep eluded him.

 

The clock ticked.

 

Plagg started to snore inches away from his left ear, the noise interspersed with fragments of speech. Something about a giant, runaway cheese wheel and... getting the red katana free?

 

Racing thoughts and disjointed memories made it clear that his brain was not going to shut down any time soon. Reaching across his nightstand, Adrien grabbed his phone and navigated to the photo gallery. Going back a few years, he swiped slowly through the images. A candid family Christmas photo. His mother, festively dressed for _Carnaval de Nice_. His baking soda volcano -- Emilie had laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks when the paper mache abomination went on overdrive, coating Adrien in orange foam.

 

And later; Emile and Gabriel Agreste, ascending the stairs of their private plane to Tibet. Nathalie had tried to pry him away from the tarmac, insisting he’d see them again soon.

 

Then, a notable gap in the timeline; most of the following photos were of fascinating rocks or a particularly stunning sunset. There was a snap of his father, glaring down in displeasure at one of his works in progress.

 

A picture of Nino popped up, straws poking out of the sides of his mouth like a walrus. A few more, then a selfie in which Adrien’s blush rivalled the risqué red tube top Alya was flaunting beside him. Next: Big Ben looming in the distance as Alya, Nino, and Marinette posed with peace signs. They’d asked him to join them, but he’d been too afraid his father would see the picture. In the end it didn’t matter -- Startrain made the trip front page news.

 

Speaking of school trips… Malta. There were several photos of their class trip late last year. It was something of a miracle that his father had agreed to let him go. He’d insisted that the Gorilla accompany him on the trip, and that Adrien check in twice a day via video chat.

 

There was Marinette, eyes scrunched adorably in defeat at the large splotch of ketchup that had landed just above her left b-- Adrien shifted a bit (when did the room get warm?) and resumed browsing. He quickly swiped past several panoramas -- the crystal blue water was unlike anything he’d seen before -- and then stopped and moved back a frame. 

 

A group shot. And he was smiling. Not the carefully crafted, charismatic smiles he used on photo shoots, but a genuine, goofy grin. Photo Adrien was holding rabbit ears over Nino’s head while Rose giggled and Marinette--

 

\-- was gazing at him.

 

He’d seen this photo so many times, but never noticed that detail before. Adrien’s finger hovered over the image as if to touch the memory it represented. Marinette’s cheeks were dusted with a rosy blush and while everyone else was cheesing for Alya… her eyes were only for him.

 

The warmth was back, settling not on his face this time, but his heart. Adrien swiped the screen again and was startled by a firm knock at the door. He tossed the edge of his blanket over Plagg just as the door opened.

 

“Adrien.”

 

He sat up and moved to stand, but Gabriel held up a hand to stay him.

 

“I heard noises. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

 

He couldn’t recall making any noise whatsoever, but Adrien cleared his throat and set his phone aside. “Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

 

“You need to put away the phone and get some sleep.”

 

“I’ll turn it off.”

 

Gabriel nodded and turned to leave.

 

“Father?”

 

The elder Agreste paused, and glanced back at his son.

 

“The scarf you gave me for my birthday -- where did you get it?”

 

“Scarf?”

 

The warmth that had enveloped his heart moments before started to fade, but he held desperately to a last flicker of hope. “The blue one. From two years ago?”

 

“You’ll have to ask Nathalie,” Gabriel answered, “she handles those tasks.”

 

_Tasks_. His birthday was but another chore on his father’s to do list. Honestly, he wasn’t even surprised anymore.

 

“Good night, Adrien.”

 

When the door closed, Plagg kicked the blanket off in irritation and resumed his beauty rest. Adrien reached for his phone to turn it off. The screen had dimmed, and as he touched it the photo sprang to life.

 

Alya had nabbed his phone and taken a few snaps while he napped on the shore. Marinette, standing on an outcropping of rock overlooking the cove, her untied hair a beautiful mess from the sea breeze. When he’d first seen the picture, Adrien marvelled at the composition and suggested Alya consider photojournalism.

 

But now…

 

He shook his head and turned off the phone, setting it aside before laying back against the pillows once more. His eyes closed, Adrien could nonetheless see her in his memory. The glow of her shoulders in the late afternoon sun. Her surprisingly muscular limbs and toned abdominals, rivaling those of some of the fitness models he’d met over the years. In his imagination she turned to face him, an enigmatic smile on her lips, and his eyes were drawn inevitably from her bluebell gaze down the length of her ivory neck and still further…

 

“Do you need some privacy?” Plagg snickered sleepily.

 

Adrien’s eyes flew open. 

 

Maybe he did...

 

Kicking off the blanket with a grunt, he ambled toward the bathroom. He didn’t bother to wait for the water to heat before he stepped into the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some time to figure out the details of the last couple of chapters, and I think I have everything laid out now.  
> Yay!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few weeks have flown by with the usual adult life stuff taking over. It caused a little writer's block, which I finally decided to break through by just writing anyway. It helps that the rest of the story is already laid out. This chapter is more or less the start of the second half of the story. I'd hoped it would be a little more impactful, but if I don't put this out now I may never get to the next chapter.

In the end, Nino didn’t really have anything useful to offer Adrien in the way of advice. He shuffled his feet, fidgeted with his headphones and then heaved a sigh.

“Alya’s a mother hen, Adrien. And while she was out of line, she wasn’t entirely wrong either. You were never interested in Marinette before. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Adrien didn’t really have an answer to that question. True, he hadn’t really thought of Marinette as anything more than a friend until recently but so what? And was it a bad thing that he wanted to get to know her better?

Nino picked up on his friend’s confusion with fond exasperation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “Bro -- reasonable or not, Marinette has spent the better part of the last two years intimidated by you. She’s moving forward, and that’s a good thing, right? So before you go making any moves on her --” he held up a hand to forestall the question he knew was coming, “like inviting her on a dinner date -- you need to be sure about the kind of relationship you want with her.”

Adrien’s attention had shifted to the hallway from which the subject of their discussion was emerging. Marinette hurried over to the bench where Alya was engrossed in her history book, a bright smile on her face.

Nino followed the path of his friend’s gaze and noted the light blush dusting his nose. “God help us all,” Nino mumbled, shaking his head.

Turning his focus back to Nino, Adrien cleared his throat. “I’m seeing a therapist,” he confessed.

Nino blinked. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he shifted his weight, his posture hesitant. “He thinks that my Father has been abusing me.”

“Wow. That’s um--” Nino faltered, at a loss for words. The heavy silence sat between them, punctuated with the occasional slam of a classroom door or the thump of the basketball Kim was idly bouncing off the wall nearby. “What do you think?” Nino finally asked.

“I think,” Adrien paused, “that maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at friendships if I hadn’t been so sheltered.”

“Dude,” Nino threw an arm around his fair-haired buddy, “you’re not bad at making friends. Sure, you’re a little naive sometimes, and you could use some more practice picking up on social cues but,” he leaned in as if to share a secret, “I have it on good authority that you’re an awesome friend.”

Adrien smiled at that, and chanced a quick glance toward the bench where Marinette was now paging through her sketchbook. Her excitement was infectious, drawing in a small crowd of their classmates.

“Are you going to be okay?”

It took a moment, but Adrien finally nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

 

***

 

“I don’t want to go to Polimoda.”

Adrien sat on the edge of the couch, his back stiff with a resolve betrayed by the wringing of his hands.

Dr. Gros cocked his head, which his patient had learned was an indication he should elaborate on his thoughts.

“Father wants me to go. He pulled strings for that particular school and it’s been a given that I would attend for as long as I can remember.”

“Why that school in particular?” Dr. Gros questioned.

Adrien’s already unhappy expression grew darker. “We have extended family in Florence, and there’s a Gabriel office in Milan.”

“Milan isn’t that close to Florence.”

“It is by rail,” Adrien pointed out. “Anyway, he wants me to stay with his cousin. Probably to keep me under house arrest while I’m in school,” he grumbled.

Dr. Gros hummed, steepling his hands beneath his chin in thought. “Would this cousin be up for the job of babysitting an adult?”

Shrugging, Adrien sat back. “Edouard’s family is less fortunate than ours -- putting it mildly -- and my father has Nathalie send them a monthly stipend to help with expenses.”

“So he’d effectively be hired help.”

Adrien nodded.

“Well,” Dr. Gros cleared his throat and sat back, “it’s a moot point anyway, as you don’t want to attend. Where else have you applied?”

“I— I don’t really have a choice,” Adrien countered.

Dr. Gros frowned. “Of course you do. You always have a choice.”

“But my father—”

“Your father’s wishes are going to be irrelevant very soon,” the doctor interrupted. “You want to avoid confrontation — which I understand — but you’re about to be a legal adult and completely free to make your own choices. What do  _ you  _ want to do?”

Adrien felt the sharp nudge of an envelope poking at his ankle from the bag resting at his feet. He shot an irritated glance down before schooling his expression. At least Plagg had enough sense not to peep his head out of the bag. “I applied to MIT in America,” he admitted, “and I was accepted.”

“Congratulations!”

The distinct lack of enthusiasm on the other side of the coffee table was disappointing. “You’ve been saving your modelling stipends — enough to pay for at least one year of school, right?” 

An answering nod from his patient encouraged him. “Good! Couple that with your impressive resume, obtaining modelling gigs in the States should be simple. If I recall, the distance between Boston and New York City is comparable to Florence-Milan, which is part of your current plan.” 

Adrien gave a half-hearted shrug. Dr. Gros decided he needed a new tactic. He relaxed his posture again, affecting an air of conversational curiosity. “So, what prompted you to apply to MIT, anyway?”

Silence lingered between them as Adrien seemed to draw inward. The doctor was about to change the subject when his patient spoke once again.

“Have you heard of quantum erasure?” He didn’t wait for a reply, his voice steadily gaining an edge of excitement as he spoke. “Physicists performed experiments long ago to determine if light was made up of particles or if it was more like energy waves. The experiment basically showed that light behaves as both particle and wave — wave under normal circumstances, but particle if you set up the experiment to detect individual photons. It’s as if the light has some secret it's trying to hide.  


“Well, more recently, they’ve done experiments that show you can retroactively change the behavior of a photon using scrambling detectors on a copy of the photon. It’s sort of like changing the past.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a physics aficionado. Fascinating!”

“Isn’t it?” Adrien’s eyes were bright with a passion Dr. Gros had never seen in him before. “MIT isn’t the top school for particle physics but it’s up there.” His grin turned nostalgic, “I spent a week in Boston with my mother once. It’s a nice place — the country as a whole doesn’t have the same historical character of our cities here in Europe, but the Northeast comes close. It felt a little more like home.”

_ But that’s just a fantasy _ , his inner voice reminded him, dousing his fond vision like water on a cheery campfire.  _ Hawk Moth is still out there. I could keep Kaalki with me in Florence and if Ladybug needs my help — we can make it work, right? But across the Atlantic… the guardian might have a problem with the horse miraculous leaving the continent. I would have to give up being Chat Noir. Give up Plagg. Could I abandon Ladybug with a new partner for my own selfish reasons? Do I even want to? _

“No,” he murmured, “I can’t make that choice.”

Adrien felt ashamed of the frustrated tears brimming in his eyes and turned away from Dr. Gros’ assessing gaze. The doctor rose from his wing back chair to cross the gap between them, settling himself onto the couch beside his young patient.

“You  _ can  _ make that choice,” Dr. Gros insisted, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You are free to follow the path that is best for you.”

“The family business— Gabriel and everything that Father has worked for — I can’t just turn my back on that responsibility.”

“Adrien,” the hand on the teen’s shoulder became firm, turning him to face Dr. Gros and meet his steely gaze. “Gabriel is your father’s business.  _ His  _ dream. You are his son, but that does not obligate you to hand over your life to him. You are  _ not  _ responsible for your Father’s choices.”

A tear escaped and trailed quietly down Adrien’s cheek. Dr. Gros set aside his professional detachment for a moment, and pulled him in for a hug. Stepping away from a domineering authority figure was a tall order for anyone — doubly so when that figure was a parent. Perhaps Adrien wasn’t quite ready to take that step.

“Whatever you decide; I am sure that you will follow the right path.”

 

***

 

Ten minutes later Adrien’s mood was still dour, but he had composed himself and was making his way down the sidewalk toward school. Plagg peered up at him from the edge of his backpack, a scrutinizing expression on his whiskered face. He’d opened his mouth to espouse some cheese-based wisdom when a pink and grey blur rounded the corner and smashed straight into the pair.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the blur gushed, leaning down to gather the envelopes she’d dropped.

Adrien forced back a chuckle as he leaned down to retrieve the last envelope just beyond her reach. “School’s the other way, Marinette.”

“A-adrien?”

He handed over the letter with a curious grin. “You’re in quite a hurry.”

She giggled self-consciously. “I have an appointment down the block,” Marinette explained.  


“Well, don’t let me keep you then, Pri-- pretty girl,” he corrected himself awkwardly, hoping she didn’t catch his mistake.

If she noticed, she didn’t let on. “I’ll see you around,” she returned. An uncharacteristically confident impulse took over and she added, “pretty boy.”

Adrien laughed in earnest, and Marinette blushed before recovering and hurrying off down the sidewalk. She burst into the reception area a mere three minutes late. Dr. Gros stood beside his door, gesturing her inside.

 

***

 

_ It’s that time of year _ , Dr. Gros surmised as he considered how to address yet another case of college choice jitters. Addressing the young woman before him, he nodded in sympathy. “I can see how the prospect of having to hold down a part-time job would be daunting. However, it might also be a great opportunity. You could get a jump start on internships, and be better positioned to start your career after school.”

“I suppose,” Marinette replied, her tone uncertain.  _ Of course, that’s only the tip of the iceberg, isn’t it? Hawk Moth is desperate for my miraculous. If I demonstrate that Ladybug has left Paris, would he follow? Would it be fair to inflict him on Florence just so I can pursue my dream? And what about Chat? Can I do this without him? _

She shook her head, setting aside the questions for another time. Eventually she and Chat would have to discuss the subject. She toyed with the envelope in her hand, the edges curling with wear. “What if I’m not good enough?” she murmured. “If I can’t find a position with a fashion boutique, then I’ll be waiting tables half my time and trying to fit in with the most promising designers in Europe.”

“Marinette.”

The teen looked up at Dr. Gros and blinked at his incredulous expression.

“You’ve won fashion competitions. You are the go-to girl for a world-renowned rock celebrity when he needs design inspiration. Your classmates look to you as a capable leader. Your parents rely on your assistance in the family business. And all of this you do on top of the already challenging schedule of a typical teenager.”

_ Not to mention my yo-yo hobby _ , her mind supplied.

“Why are you so convinced that you will fail?”

Marinette frowned. “I— It’s not that I think I’ll fail, exactly,” she disputed.

“Then what?”

“I’m not that special.” She bit her lip, mentally reviewing the list of accomplishments Dr. Gros had supplied. “Not that many people enter fashion competitions,” she started. “The one for Gabriel wasn’t even a big deal. They opened it up to my school and only ten people actually had entries. I only help out Maman and Papa when they are in a pinch, that’s hardly a big deal. Anyone can be a class representative, and Jagged Stone, well—” she sighed, “that was just luck.”

“Luck? It was your design for his sunglasses that impressed him enough to request your help designing an album cover, was it not?”

“Well, yes, but if someone else had been assigned to help him that day, I’m sure they could have—”

“No.”

“No?”

Dr. Gros pinched the bridge of his nose and took a moment. He’d have to ask his receptionist to bring in a painkiller for his headache before the next session. “You, my dear, have a very well developed case of imposter syndrome.” He leveled a stern gaze on the young woman. “You told me the story about Jagged Stone before. He didn’t want any pair of glasses — he wanted something unique. Something that you came up with and produced on your own.”

Marinette looked at the ground, but didn’t dispute his assertion.

“You’ve won more than one fashion competition, but putting that aside — Gabriel Agreste chose  _ your  _ hat for his son to wear at a highly-publicized runway show. I have it on good authority that Mr. Agreste is a very discerning individual. Winning his approval is no small feat.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And no, Marinette, not everyone can be a class representative. The title isn’t assigned, it’s earned through the confidence of your peers. Not everyone has the qualities needed to gain that kind of trust and respect.”

“But that’s just it! It’s not like I changed my personality or anything. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly. You are you. We are all born with our own unique talents and traits. It’s what we do with them that matters. _You_ balance your school and extracurricular activities. _You_ choose to develop relationships that help or hinder your life. _You_ put your unique talents to work making a difference in the world. That’s not luck, Marinette. That’s all _you_. Have some faith in yourself.”

The clock on the wall ticked closer to the end of the hour. “Go to Polimoda. Or don’t. But don’t for one second fall into the trap of dismissing your own worth." He stood from his seat, and escorted his patient toward the door. "Believe it or not, it’s often those who are least convinced of their greatness that are most worthy of the title.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next:  
> An interesting afternoon at the photo shoot.
> 
> Plus: What is that special project Marinette was working on the other day? And what are those Thursday evening plans that prevented her from having dinner with Adrien?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. The photo shoot in this chapter took up more words than I expected.
> 
> Mystery plans next chapter!

Marinette twiddled with the edge of the vinyl holding her temporary identification. The badge, bearing the Gabriel logo watermark behind her name, was hanging haphazardly around her neck. It would make a nice souvenir, she thought -- if only they’d managed to type her name correctly.

 

Madame Sancoeur had given her a short tour of the facilities, her tone as terse and cool in person as it was coming from the security camera outside of the Agreste mansion. Marinette knew where the bathrooms were, the best place to stand -- out of the way, a phrase the woman had repeated more than once -- and where the water cooler was stationed. Now, she stood awkwardly to the side of the main set feeling awkwardly out of place.

 

Across the room, Adrien accepted his first three piece suit of the afternoon from the assistant and ducked behind the sheets which constituted his changing room. He set the tie and cuff links on his dressing table and began the tedious process of removing his shirt without smudging Pierre’s meticulously applied color correction cream and bronzer.

 

“I don’t get it,” Plagg groused from his spot on the dressing table. “Your dad goes apeshit if you don’t wear sunscreen to the damn library. Then you come here and they put all this crap on your face to make it look like you got a tan.”

 

Adrien rolled his eyes but the hint of a smile quirked at his lips.

 

“Oh, and another thing--” Plagg’s next shrewd observation went unvoiced. He zipped into the pocket of Adrien’s denim pants just as the sheets behind them drew back to reveal one Gabriel Agreste.

 

This was unexpected.

 

“Father? I didn’t know you were on set today.”

 

“I had a last minute opening in my schedule,” he dismissed.

 

Adrien turned back to the mirror, deftly working his tie into a Windsor knot.

 

“Cape knot,” Gabriel directed, coming up behind him.

 

“Sorry, I must have misread my notes--”

 

“You didn’t,” he interrupted. “I changed my mind.”

 

Nodding, Adrien loosened the fabric and took a moment to remember the steps for a proper cape knotted tie.

 

“You will need to remove your ring, as well.”

 

“Is there a ring with this set?”

 

“No.”

 

His father offered no further explanation and Adrien felt a knot of apprehension building within. “Any reason we can’t Photoshop it out?”

 

“I asked you to remove it. That is reason enough.”

 

“Y-yes, of course.” Having finished his tie, Adrien quickly attached the cuff links and turned to face his father for inspection.

 

Gabriel pinched at the seams of his jacket, inspecting them for even stitching. He frowned and plucked at a loose thread, then brushed off a bit of fuzz and stood back.

 

Father and son faced each other.

 

“Was there anything else, Father?”

 

Gabriel glanced toward Adrien’s hand, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. “The ring.”

 

“I’ll remember to remove it before the shoot.”

 

His eyes narrowed, Gabriel forced the tension from his shoulders. It was only a matter of time, after all. He gave his son a curt nod and strode out of the dressing room.

 

Adrien fingered the ring as Plagg appeared at his shoulder. “You can’t just leave it here,” the kwami nagged.

 

“I don’t really have any other options.” He turned a bit, tugging at the faux pockets on his slacks. “Nowhere to put it.” Inspiration struck. “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”

 

Back at the set, Marinette was pulled from her boredom by an idle photographer.

 

“Have you seen the mood boards?” he asked, indicating a large plywood sheet leaning against some stools.

Marinette shook her head and followed the man over to the other side, which was plastered with swatches of fabric, color chips, photographs and dozens of post-its with hastily scrawled notes.

 

“Monsieur Agreste gets the final say, of course, but we use these boards to collaborate and share ideas for each shoot. Sometimes a planned set doesn’t feel right when we’re in action, so we use the board to make adjustments on the fly. A different filter on the light, for example.”

 

The production assistant called him over, leaving Marinette to pour over the details laid out on the board.

 

“I hear he’s been distracted.”

 

The hushed, female voice grew clearer as footsteps approached from the bathrooms. Marinette didn’t want to eavesdrop, but it was too late to announce her presence.

 

“Distracted by what?” a second woman scoffed. “I hear the man does nothing but hide out in his study all day. God, I wish he would be distracted, if you know what I mean." An amused snort punctuated the sentence. "Maybe then he would stop churning out such crap. Have you seen the early concepts for our outerwear line?”

 

The first woman stifled another giggle. “I shouldn’t laugh -- we need this job. Henri is back on disability and who knows when or if he’ll be able to go back to work. If Gabriel goes down...”

 

“It’s only going to get worse, you know. His golden boy is going to Polimoda this fall. The kid’s cute but he’s not a fashion designer and who knows if he has any business sense. Better start brushing up that CV now.”

 

A tap on her shoulder made Marinette yelp. There was a shuffling of feet and she watched the gossips scurry off to the other side of the set, shame-faced.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Adrien apologized.

 

Marinette didn’t know what to say. Had he heard the women talking? His expression didn’t suggest that he was upset. “N-no problem,” she replied at last.

 

He stepped back a bit, and spread his arms out for her inspection. “What do you think?”

 

_ Will you marry me?  _ Marinette felt her cheeks heat at the errant thought.  _ Focus on the clothes, Marinette _ . She took in the lines of the suit, and noted the subtle contrasting undertones of orange and blue in the greys of the slacks and jacket. She almost forgot herself, reaching a finger out to test the texture of the fabric. Adrien sensed her hesitation, and leaned a shoulder toward her.

 

“Is that linen?”

 

“I think? Why do you ask?”

 

Marinette’s brows knit adorably, and Adrien realized he’d been holding his breath in anticipation of her opinion.

 

She shook her head slightly, and withdrew her hand. “It’s just that linen is more of a summertime fabric, and you said this was the fall line, right?”

 

Adrien shrugged, “Global warming?”

 

Marinette chuckled.

 

“Oh, before I forget. May I ask a favor of you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Adrien twisted the ring from his finger and held it out to her, the motion slow with hesitance. “I can’t wear my ring on the shoot today, and I might lose it if I leave it in the dressing room. Would you…?”

 

Marinette opened her hand and he dropped the thick, silver ring into her waiting palm. She curled her fingers around it and drew her fist to her heart. “I’ll guard it with my life,” she assured him, a teasing glint in her eyes.

 

His eyes flashed with an inquiring look so brief Marinette wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it.

 

“Adrien.”

 

Marinette felt her stomach drop at the voice of her fashion idol. She turned to see Gabriel approaching, an inscrutable expression on his face.

 

“I asked you to remove your ring,” he reminded Adrien.

 

“I did,” he replied, holding up his hand for inspection.

 

“It wasn’t in your dressing room,” Gabriel noted, his voice carrying a note of concern.

 

Adrien smiled in Marinette’s direction. “Father, you remember Marinette, right? She designed the pigeon-inspired derby hat you chose at the school fashion competition.”

 

“Indeed,” Gabriel spared a brief glance at the girl before turning his attention back to his son. “Your ring?”

 

His father’s preoccupation with his personal belongings was unusual, but he’d gladly take any sign of the man’s concern. He rested a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and gave her a smile. “Marinette is doing me the honor of protecting it,” he replied.

 

Gabriel looked back at Marinette, frowning. “Nathalie will hold it for you. There’s no need to bother your classmate.”

 

“Oh, it’s not a bother,” Marinette assured him with a smile. “It’s the least I can do to make myself useful.”

 

He hated this girl already. From the corner of his eye, he could see the production assistant fidgeting on the set as the rest of the crew did their best to pretend not to be watching the exchange. He’d have to hope for an opportune moment later. “Very well,” he permitted. “Adrien, you are needed on set.”

 

\--

 

Back in his street clothes, Adrien was humming an upbeat tune as he made his way to the front of the studio. Marinette greeted him with a smile, and held out his ring which he immediately returned to its rightful place on his finger. “Thank you.”

 

“Thank you for inviting me along,” Marinette returned.

 

Adrien scratched at the back of his neck. “I know it can get a little boring in there,” he acknowledged. “This is just a job to pretty much everyone else. Having you there made it fun.” He shuffled his feet a bit, feeling suddenly awkward in her presence. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a quick dinner? Maybe some coffee?”

 

“I can’t,” Marinette replied, eyes downcast.

 

He nodded, and forced a casual smile onto his face. Marinette hated to see it there. “Maybe another time.”

 

She was sure her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest, but she pulled herself together and met his gaze with a friendly expression of her own. “Another time,” she answered. The silence between them was suddenly awkward. Marinette bit her lip and stepped back. “Well, I’d better get going. See you at school.”

 

“Yes, see you tomorrow,” he agreed.

 

Marinette hurried down the sidewalk and rounded the corner. When the coast was clear, she slowed her pace and pulled her purse closer.

 

“Tikki?”

 

“Yes?” the kwami chirped, peering through the open zipper of her hideout.

 

“The cat miraculous… it’s not a unique design, is it? I mean, rings in that shape are in pretty much any jewelry store, right?

 

“I haven’t spent much time in a jewelry store, Marinette,” Tikki pointed out.

 

“I guess you haven’t.”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Marinette pursed her lips. Part of her felt compelled to follow her train of thought, but she knew better than that. Some questions were best left unanswered. "No," she finally answered. "We'd better hurry home -- I don't want to be late."  



	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Miraculous theme park! Please make sure you buckle up as we begin the LadyNoir Roller Coaster...

Chat Noir hummed a little tune as he stared across the Seine at the Eiffel Tower, lit up beautifully against the night sky. The arrival of April brought warmer afternoons, but the evenings still held enough of a chill that he wrapped his arms around himself to stave off the icy fingers of night. Ladybug had sent the message to meet atop this particular building last night, her demeanor strangely reticent. She’d seemed withdrawn, almost nervous as she rattled off the address and practically stuttered her assurance that she’d be there. 

 

Shrugging it off, Chat’s thoughts drifted back to his afternoon with Marinette. It surprised him how disappointed he’d been when she’d turned down his invitation for coffee. He’d even briefly toyed with the notion of skulking by the bakery after patrol, wondering what she could be up to on a school night. Plagg’s observations that the idea was somewhat stalkerish factored into the abandonment of that plan.

 

Behind him, the door leading to the rooftop creaked open. Chat turned to see Ladybug waving him over, the smile on her face demure. He glanced back to the Parisian skyline, his brows furrowed in confusion.

 

“I thought we’d skip patrol tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

 

He had no objections, but his expression remained wary as he made his way to the stairwell.

 

Ladybug descended the three flights of stairs ahead of him, flicking on a light as they entered the open room on the ground floor. Though dimly lit, Chat recognized the arcade where Max was employed. 

 

“What are we doing here?”

 

Making her way behind the counter, Ladybug pulled up a bucket of game tokens. “Happy birthday!”

 

“Happy…” Chat echoed, trailing off as he took in the small hand-made banner and multicolored balloons scattered throughout the room.

 

“I called in a favor with The Gamer,” Ladybug explained as she flipped on the radio, “and got permission from the owner for a free, private booking.” Having found a suitable station and volume, she returned to his side. “Tokens are on the house, but the only prizes are bragging rights.”

 

_ That explains what Max was so excited about _ , he thought, bemused. Still, it wasn’t like his lady to waste time on something as frivolous as a birthday party. And for him, of all people.  _ It could be a trap _ , he considered, heart sinking.

 

Ladybug’s expression began to fall as she worried for the hundredth time that this might have been a bad idea. “I remembered you liked video games,” she went on nervously, “and I thought maybe it would be fun to spend some time together without Paris in danger. B-but if you don’t want to--”

 

“No!” Chat interrupted, meeting his partner’s hesitant gaze. “I just didn’t expect--” he stopped and took in the hopeful expression on her face. “Thank you,” he finished.

 

Her smile returning, Ladybug thrust the token bucket in his direction. “Kitty’s choice!”

 

Adrien’s one and only prior visit had been over a year ago; Monsieur Agreste chafed at the notion of his son playing games with the  _ plebians _ . Moseying along the perimeter he took stock of his options, pausing briefly at Classic Mecha Strike. He shook his head. Too many unnerving memories there. His next stop was the basketball game a few paces down, where he set his tokens on the console.

 

“Do you remember how I defeated The Gamer with your lucky charm the last time?” Chat prompted casually, plucking a token from the bucket and leaning down to insert it in the slot.

 

Ladybug blinked and slid into the space between games, levelling him with a suspicious look. “I was the one to defeat him,” she corrected. “You jumped out of the ring.”

 

“Right,” he hummed, “guess I forgot.”

 

She watched in silence as he completed several easy dunks, chaining up a high score. “I have a feeling this would be more fun without our miraculous,” she reflected.

 

Chat tossed a glance in her direction and stuck out his tongue. “I could play blind,” he offered, closing his eyes.

 

Three of his next four shots sunk masterfully and Ladybug snorted. “Show off.”

 

“Not at all,” he shot back. “This is raw, athletic talent, Bugaboo.”

 

Remembering the tips she’d read the night before, Ladybug felt her cheeks heat.  _ Take any opportunity to make contact, _ the magazine had advised.  _ Touch his arms, tap his chest. Drop compliments on his physique. _

 

Hesitantly, she reached out and gave Chat’s bicep a light squeeze. “I don’t suppose these go away with the costume,” she considered.

 

Chat missed his next shot.

 

Clearing his throat, he grabbed a handful of golden tokens from the bucket and thrust them at his partner. “Less gawking, more playing,” he bit out.

 

It wasn’t an outright rejection.

 

Ladybug took the tokens and slipped around to the Metris machine beside him. Fighting games were more her forte, but something about the repetition of building neat stacks of squares was calming. The song on the radio faded and segued into a classic rock number and before she knew it, she was quietly singing along.

 

“ _ Antidote _ fan?”

 

“Papa is,” she replied. “When I was little he’d play air guitar and give me chopsticks to play the ‘drums’.” She smiled fondly at the memory and a little giggle erupted as a more recent memory surfaced. “If he knew I was here with you, he wouldn’t stop trying to stuff you with pastries.”

 

His game finished, Chat retrieved the tokens and came to stand behind Ladybug. “I could go for some pastries. Is your father a pastry chef?”

 

_ Crap _ , Ladybug reproached, realizing the hypnotic effect of the game had lowered her defenses.  _ I need to be more careful. _ “Let’s just say he loves to feed people,” she offered haltingly. “What about you? Any fun stories with your parents?”

 

Chat’s grip on the tokens tightened as his chest constricted. “I’m… not very close with my father,” he admitted. 

 

The atmosphere had grown almost palpably gloomy with his response and Ladybug scrambled for a change in subject. “Um, speaking of pastries, I did bring some snacks with me. Did you want to take a break?”

 

Her partner shook his head, but a wan smile returned to his face. A neon flash from the corner of the room drew his attention and recognizing the game, his smile grew into something almost predatory. Ladybug, having used her last token, backed away from her machine.

 

“May I have this dance, M’lady?”

 

Chat led her toward the setup, two platforms side-by-side before a large screen and comically gaudy lighting. He popped two tokens into the game as Ladybug took her place on the right half and familiarized herself with the layout.

 

Level one started easily enough and the superheroes’ agility and speed made quick work of the first ten levels. The cartoon hippo on the monitor sashayed in time to the music, barking out dance moves in ever-increasing complexity interspersed with praise and good-natured trash talk.

 

“Do you have this game memorized or something?” Ladybug huffed as Chat breezed through a combo on level twenty. She misstepped and reached for the nearby bar to steady herself. 

 

“Not possible,” Chat reminded her, a slight pant of exertion in his voice, “the steps are random.”

 

Another missed combination and Ladybug couldn’t help but pout as the infernal hippo taunted her loss. She hopped off the platform and stood back to watch her partner sail through another complex set of steps. He cheered as the level ended, the strobing flash of his ridiculously high score making her squint.

 

_ Most boys love positive attention: flatter them with praise. _

 

“You’re practically Fred Astaire,” Ladybug purred awkwardly.

 

Chat quirked a brow, saving his score under the pseudonym ‘MIAOU’ before joining his partner on the floor once more. “I have an earlier version of the game at home,” he shrugged. “Been playing since I was ten.”

 

_ Other boys love to be challenged. _

 

“In that case, I’m choosing next,” she huffed playfully, striding over to the vintage StackMan machine.

 

Chat followed in her wake, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I, um, have that one at home too.”

 

Ladybug turned to face him. “This never came out on a console system!” she disputed incredulously.

 

“Original 1980s arcade machine,” he boasted in return, forgetting himself.

 

She gaped at him, then whipped back to the game with renewed determination. “Doesn’t matter,” she declared. “I’m still going to win.”

 

“Want to place a bet?” he propositioned, handing her a token to start the game.

 

“Best score out of three rounds each,” she agreed. “Stakes?”

 

“I win, I get a kiss from M’lady,” Chat teased.

 

“Deal,” Ladybug shrugged.

 

Chat’s eyebrows leapt into his bangs.  _ Can Mayura replicate memories in a sentimonster? _ He studied his partner carefully, watching as she leaned down to feed the machine. She certainly looked like Ladybug, but he’d been fooled before. “And if you win?”

 

She tossed a glance in his direction. “Then I get one,” she replied as simply as if she were reporting the weather.

 

_ She must have hit her head. It’s the only explanation. _

 

“Now, are we going to start or do you want to concede now?”

 

Affecting an air of bravado, Chat leaned against the controls and shrugged. “I win either way.”

 

Ladybug shouldered him aside and pressed the start button. He had to hand it to her, she was quite good. His vintage arcade collection served as more of a decoration these days; he hadn’t actually played most of the games in quite some time. In the end, he finished his third round twenty-two points behind.

 

Chat turned away from the machine, coming face to face with his partner wearing a triumphant grin. “You win, Bugaboo,” he yielded.

 

“What was that?” she leaned in, cupping a hand to her ear.

 

He snorted. Ladybug stood back. Her eyes darted to the ground as a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks and the sudden silence between them made it feel like she was waiting for something.

 

_ She wasn’t serious about the bet… was she? _ “I could use a drink.” Chat blurted out, turning away suddenly to scan the room. 

 

Ladybug’s voice sounded almost disheartened as she turned away. “I brought some with the snacks.” She made her way back to the counter, retrieving a fabric tote and unpacking a pair of orange sodas and a pastry box. “It’s not much,” she excused. “I hope you like fruit tarts.”

 

Chat joined her at the counter, pulling over a couple of stools. She opened the box, revealing a golden tart with a flaky crust and an array of mixed fruits arrayed in the center.

 

“Is that passion fruit?”

 

She nodded, cutting the medium tart into two halves and setting them each on small paper plates. “Yep! The glaze is passion fruit, and there’s a little more mixed in with the strawberry and kiwi.”

 

Taking a bite, he barely suppressed a sigh of pleasure. His diet over the last week had been highly restricted in preparation for the formalwear shoot, and this first taste of pure indulgence had him nearly reeling.

 

“Good?”

 

Chat shoveled in another bite. “Delicious,” he mumbled around a mouthful of tart. “I love passion fruit.”

 

Ladybug paused at that, her fork poised midair. It had to be a coincidence.  _ He didn’t say it was his favorite,  _ she reminded herself.  _ I’m sure a lot of people love passion fruit. _

 

“Soda?” 

 

Ladybug nodded as Chat opened and passed her a can. Grabbing the second, he lifted the metal tab. It snapped off, leaving his fizzy refreshment locked away. He frowned. “I’d do a cata-- you know -- but then I’d have to leave in five minutes and I’m having too much fun.”

 

“I should have remembered to bring cheese for your kwami,” Ladybug snickered. “It’s okay, we can share mine.”

 

The evening had been going so well. Naturally, Chat had to put his foot in his mouth.

 

“Are you sure Luka wouldn’t mind you picking up kitty cooties?”

 

Ladybug’s shoulders visibly tensed, and Chat grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

 

“Chat--”

 

“No, really, I’m sorry. We’re friends, right? Friends can share drinks.”

 

“Chat.” She sighed, pushing aside the remains of her tart and tentatively rested a hand on his forearm. “I tried to tell you before: there’s nothing between me and Luka. It was just a fling, okay? I’ve been working through some things, and we just… it wasn’t anything serious.”

 

“It doesn’t matter if it was,” he countered. “You made your feelings clear more than once. I was wrong to disrespect you by pushing.”

 

“No, Chat, you don’t understand--”

 

“You love who you love, and you shouldn’t apologize for that.”

 

The hand on his arm trailed down past his wrist, and her fingers began a gentle, tentative dance around his own. “I don’t love Luka.”

 

His skin tingled beneath the suit where the pads of her middle and index fingers ghosted over his knuckles and he couldn’t help sucking in a breath as she twined their hands together.

 

“I... won the bet,” she murmured.

 

A hot lance of longing pierced Chat’s heart.  _ She couldn’t want me to...? _ The entire evening it seemed she’d been sending furtive glances in his direction, making subtle contact whenever the occasion arose. He’d chalked it up to wishful thinking, but as he felt the warmth of her breath between them, he broke. “Why are you doing this to me?” he mewled plaintively.

 

She froze, but didn’t release his hand as her voice quaked, “d-doing what?”

 

Pushing back from the table, Chat clambered to a stand. “For the last two years you’ve pushed me away. And now you’re-- are you flirting with me?”

 

Ladybug’s eyes were downcast, stinging now with embarrassed tears. “I… yes?”

 

“Yes?”

 

She looked up at him again, expecting to see his anger and was instead overwhelmed with the tormented expression etched across his handsome features. She sniffled, and slowly rose from her own seat. “I-- I’m sorry, Chat. I’m not trying to-- I’ve been so wrong, and I-- I don’t know what I’m doing,” she finished pitifully.

 

Chat felt his heart ache for her in spite of himself, and moved closer to envelop his partner in a hug.

 

“I thought I was in love with-- that other boy,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “but I’m realizing that I don’t really know what love is. Maybe I’m making the same mistake now, but we-- Chat, you’re my best friend. We’ve been through so much together and I--” she sniffled again, forcibly biting back the end of her aimless monologue. “I’ve been really unfair to you.”

 

The words he wanted to say stabbed at his throat like shards of glass.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

 

He lifted a hand past her pigtails, trailing it soothingly down her scalp. “It’s okay, LB,” he choked out.

 

They remained in their embrace a few moments more before Ladybug pulled back and wiped at the tears on her mask. “Do you think… do you think you can forgive me?”

 

Chat closed his eyes to center himself and she felt her heart sink. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he murmured. “But I- you’re not the only one who’s been reflecting lately. I had decided that I need to move on from you, LB. And now... I don’t know what to think.”

 

Ladybug nodded. It was only fair, even if it tore at her heart.

 

A perky tune wafted from the sound system, and she suddenly remembered the other part of his birthday surprise.

 

“I almost forgot,” she reached back into the tote bag and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in bright green paper. “I brought you a gift.”

 

Chat accepted the box curiously, sitting back down at the counter to unwrap it. He quickly demolished the wrapping with his claws, and pulled up to lid to reveal more green tissue paper. Nestled inside was a luxuriously soft, black rectangle of knitted material. He lifted it gingerly from the tissue paper, extending it out to its full length.

 

“It’s a scarf,” Ladybug sheepishly explained.

 

He nodded, and turned it over in his hands to take in the triple green lines stretched across both ends. On closer inspection, he realized that the lines were actually comprised of miniscule paw prints. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he breathed.

 

“F-from a distance it’s not really that unique,” she returned modestly. “I wanted you to be able to wear it as a civilian without giving yourself away. That’s why I made the paw prints so small -- you have to be up close know they aren’t just lines.”

 

“You made this?”

 

She nodded, a blush blooming beneath her mask.

 

Chat felt his throat tighten again and his heart bloomed with warmth. He closed the gift back in its box and hugged it close, slipping back down from his stool once again. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice rough with tears he stubbornly refused to shed. It was too much; he needed to go. “I’ll help you clean up.”

 

Ladybug shook her head. “No, please -- this is your party. Besides, there’s not much to clean,” she insisted.

 

Chat watched her in silence for a moment, then leaned forward to drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Good night,” he murmured before quietly slipping away.

 

\--

 

The detransformation complete, Plagg sensibly left Adrien to his thoughts, opting to treat himself to a well-deserved dairy buffet. Adrien stood in the middle of his room, running a now clawless finger gently over the stitches of the best birthday gift he’d ever received.

 

_ She made it especially for me _ , he mused in wonder.  _ She planned the entire thing for me. Because she… _ He ruthlessly stopped that train of thought before it could leave the station.  _ She’s also hurting from something _ , another voice in his mind prodded him.  _ Two years of rejection-- what if she doesn’t really mean it? We’re still not free to share our identities. How would a relationship even work? _

 

Heaving a sigh Adrien padded into his expansive closet. He pushed aside his former favorite scarf, sliding his new gift carefully onto a smooth hanger beside it. With a final look, he turned away and headed for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think this also counts as MariChat, since Ladybug is channeling a lot of Marinette this evening.
> 
> This is one of the four or so chapters I have been eager to write. Hoping it came out as well as I imagined it in my head.
> 
> And now... [ominous music]


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the time-shift trope. Couldn't help myself.

The ring of a phone pierced the still night.

 

Sheets shuffled as he reached back and flailed blindly toward the noise. His voice rough with sleep, he nonetheless managed a coherent, “hello?”

 

A muffled voice on the other end was hurried, perhaps even frantic. Sitting up, the man checked his bedside clock -- 21:53 -- and tried to slide into warm slippers that weren’t on the floor where they belonged.

 

“No, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

 

A feminine pout arose from the sheets behind him, “Blaise?” and a lazy arm beckoned him back to her side. He leaned down, placing a kiss on her hand before turning to exit the bedroom.

 

Shrugging on the robe he’d grabbed, Dr. Gros made his way across the chilly wooden floor to his desk. He stifled a yawn. “You made the right choice in calling me. Are you in immediate danger? Do you have a place to stay?”

 

The voice on the other end dropped in cadence, but still carried a nervous tremor.

 

Dr. Gros’ tense expression eased with relief and he began to rifle through his files, pulling out a few pastel information sheets and a glossy pamphlet. “Good, that’s good. I can meet you in the office at 6:30 tomorrow, can you make that?”

 

He woke his laptop, and pulled back his chair. “You’re quite welcome,” he replied, tone warm -- almost fatherly, “now try to get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Setting aside the phone, Dr. Gros rubbed the sleepiness from his face and lowered himself into the chair. Overtime and erratic work hours were par for the course with his most important work.

 

Fortunately, it was also his most fulfilling.

  
  


**Four Hours Earlier**

 

“I was really looking forward to a nice evening in,” Plagg grumbled. “I aged a pecorino just for tonight.”

 

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Bring it with you, then. Not like I don’t smell of stinky cheese all the time anyway.”

 

“What good will it do me if I can’t eat it?” 

 

“Why won’t you be able to eat it?”

 

Plagg blinked. “You’re not going out as Chat Noir?”

 

Adrien shook his head. “Nope.”

 

“And how are you planning to pull that off?” Plagg probed, following Adrien into the bathroom where the teen started combing his hair.

 

“I’m eighteen,” he replied simply.

 

“Yes…which is why I thought we were going to be bonding over a cheese board.”

 

Surveying his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Adrien set down the comb and reached for the light hold hairspray.

 

“Eighteen is legally an adult,” he patiently explained. “Adrien Agreste is free to go out on his birthday if he so pleases.”

 

Plagg sneezed as the mist of hair product wafted in his direction. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re now speaking of yourself in the third person,” another sneeze, “but I find it hard to believe your being a minor was the only thing keeping you housebound.”

 

The kwami had a point. Adrien of two months ago would still be dutifully heeding his father’s wishes, spending the evening of his birthday eating cheese and crackers with Plagg in front of Netflix. Now -- he’d had a taste of freedom. Granted, patrolling as Chat Noir had released him from the physical constraints of the mansion, but the reality of his responsibilities remained a mental chain, albeit tenuous, on even that liberty. Spending an evening just being; not having to beg his father for a concession or scrap of independence; not weighed down by the purpose of the ever-present ring on his left hand. Ladybug had given him that gift, as well.

 

A mere five days had passed since the arcade, but Adrien Agreste was now thoroughly addicted to autonomy.

 

Striding into his closet, Adrien stood before his collection of outerwear. A light jacket would suffice, he reasoned, paired with a soft scarf. He lifted the ends of his two birthday scarves in contemplation. The blue would probably go better with his jacket. He fingered the ends in indecision. They were remarkably similar in length, he noticed. Not an exact match, but far closer in respective length and width than the others in his collection. The material seemed identical -- possibly cashmere by feel but he wasn’t well-versed in textiles. Curiosity propelled him to investigate the stitching on each, and he pulled in a third of similar weight for comparison. Each row on the first two seemed to weave seamlessly into its neighbor, whereas the third was clearly hemmed, having likely been cut from a larger swath of fabric. The selvedges on each of the first two were mildly uneven, but the patterns were indistinguishable.

 

“It’s just a scarf,” Plagg huffed impatiently. “Go the with blue.”

 

_ It could be a coincidence, but,  _ “I think these were made by the same person,” Adrien wondered aloud. He slipped the blue scarf from its hanger, wrapping it loosely around his neck. Plagg popped his odiferous cheese wedge into the jacket’s inner pocket, sliding in after it.

 

Adrien could feel his heart pounding in nervous anticipation as he neared the front door. He made contact with the cold, metal handle and started to turn it when a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder.

 

The Gorilla’s expression was impassive as ever, but his body language was clear.

 

“I’m going out,” Adrien stated, infusing the declaration with confidence that steadily dwindled with each passing second.

 

The man didn’t move.

 

“I’m eighteen,” he went on. “You can’t legally stop me from going anywhere.”

 

His bodyguard’s expression faltered slightly, conflict in his gaze.

 

Adrien pursed his lips. The man was only following the instructions of his employer, and for years now he’d dutifully kept Adrien safe.

 

“You can come with me,” he suggested in negotiation. “I’m just going down to the pub. Or maybe a movie.” He shuffled his feet self-consciously. “I haven’t decided yet.”

 

A single nod was The Gorilla’s only reply. Adrien turned back to the door and opened it.

 

“Adrien?”

 

He groaned under his breath, and turned back around as Nathalie finished descending the stairs.

 

“Your father asked me to summon you to the dining room,” she announced. “Where are you going?”

 

“Out,” he said, “which is my prerogative  _ as an adult _ .”

 

He’d clearly caught her off guard. Regaining her composure, she squared her shoulders. “Your father would like to wish you a happy birthday.”

 

Sighing, Adrien resigned himself to following her down the hall and into the formal dining room. Holding desperately onto some semblance of control, he refused the seat she offered and remained standing.

 

“I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

 

The wait was stifling, and Adrien toyed with the end of his scarf in thought. Turning back toward Nathalie, he broke the silence. “Father said you were the one who chose this scarf for my fifteenth birthday.”

 

She paused in her reply, and Adrien detected a minute hesitance in her gaze before she nodded.

 

“It’s funny,” he continued, “because I’m pretty sure this is a handmade scarf, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you knit.”

 

She sighed, a put-upon expression on her face. “Your point, Adrien?”

 

“I’d like to know where it came from. The truth.” Adrien heard his father’s tone coming from his lips, and a twinge of self-loathing swept through him. “ _ Please _ .”

 

“I don’t recall,” she replied. Adrien’s eyes narrowed and pursed her lips. “Your father reminded me of your birthday the morning of,” she amended. “One of your admirers dropped by with a gift but she left off her name.”

 

“So you stole it,” he finished.

 

“You received it,” she disputed.

 

The simmering irritation that had settled within him roiled into a full boil. “This scarf was one of the most precious things in the world to me,” he ground out. “And it turns out it was a lie. This was a gift from someone who actually gives a shit about me, and you tainted it for your own convenience. I’d rather have gotten nothing!”

 

Expertly masking her shock, Nathalie held her ground but said nothing.

 

“What did she look like?”

 

His voice was barely above a whisper, and Nathalie frowned in confusion. “Who?”

 

“The girl who  _ actually  _ gave me this scarf.” Evading another convenient memory lapse, he asked, “did she have raven hair in pigtails? Blue eyes?”

 

“I didn’t notice her eyes,” Nathalie replied. 

 

It was enough to solidify his suspicions.

 

“I would be less worried about the scarf around your neck,” an authoritative voice announced from the entry, “and more concerned with last winter’s unsold Gabriel scarves bound for the incinerators next week.”

 

Adrien turned to meet his father’s steely gaze with a determined one of his own. “Father.”

 

“Would you excuse us, Nathalie,” Gabriel ordered, coming into the room to stand opposite his son.

 

Adrien felt small in his father’s shadow.

 

“I will admit,” Gabriel began, “that my efforts on your prior birthdays have fallen short. Allow me to rectify that situation now. I think you’ll find this year’s gift to be worth the wait.”

 

The elder Agreste turned, and his son trailed him across the foyer to his study. Once inside, Gabriel closed the door and strode purposefully to the golden portrait of his mother, which had dominated the room for as long as Adrien could remember.

 

“You’ll understand,” Gabriel continued, “that everything I am about to share with you is to remain between us.”

 

“Of course,” Adrien agreed, his stomach twisting into anxious knots.

 

“Stand behind me,” Gabriel directed. Lifting his hands to the portrait, he pressed his fingers into the concealed recesses within, and Adrien was stunned as a portal opened beneath them and he felt himself descend into a basement he never knew existed.

 

Their trip down what seemed to be a glass tube was relatively brief, ending with a jolt at the bottom. Gabriel exited and Adrien followed warily behind him.

 

The room -- if you could call it that -- was cavernous, and Adrien was reminded of the old, gothic churches he’d once toured. A slight draft swirled lazily around him and the air was cold. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck against the chill and continued further inside down the gangway stretching out before him. With each step his feet clanked on the metal grating, the sound echoing off the walls.

 

How had he never known this existed?

 

The walk to the other end of the passage was made in silence, and Adrien grew increasingly unsettled as Gabriel approached his target. Coming to a stop before a golden capsule of some kind, he turned back to his son and cleared his throat.

 

“You had just entered your teenage years when your mother disappeared,” Gabriel recalled, his voice softened with a rare sentimentality. “I realize the intervening years have been -- challenging --”

 

Were he not feeling so inexplicably defenseless, Adrien would have snorted at the understatement.

 

“-- and I had hoped to spare you the pain you’ve endured. Unfortunately, my efforts thus far have been less than successful.”

 

Gabriel reached toward the capsule, and pressed a glowing button on the side. “But perhaps with your help, we can accomplish this feat together.”

 

The metal covering on the capsule parted.

 

Pupils dilated.

 

_...Mother…? _

 

Time, and his heart, stopped.

 

Gabriel turned toward his comatose wife, giving his son a moment to absorb the enormity of his revelation. He caressed the glass encasement with adoration.

 

The early stages of shock progressed, and Adrien could barely string together a coherent thought.  _ But she-- I thought-- _ “what have you…?”

 

“Your mother is  _ alive _ , Adrien. She’s in a kind of stasis -- I won’t go into the specifics now, I don’t want to overwhelm you -- but she is not lost to us.

 

“I thought it would be simple,” he went on. “We had two of them, and the book. All I needed was to obtain the keys -- yin and yang -- to make our wish and erase the past. It  _ should  _ have been easy.”

 

His heartbeat now roaring in his ears, his father’s words barely registered. Adrien turned slowly to survey the scene surrounding them. The large, glass window above them; bushes, around which delicate, white butterflies floated and danced.

 

“...her intentions may be good, but Ladybug couldn’t possibly understand--”

 

“... you’re... Hawk Moth.”

 

Gabriel paused and Adrien turned to face him on trembling legs, his heart fluttering out of control. A bead of cold sweat dripped down his neck and as the truth of his statement hung unchallenged between them, his stomach lurched.

 

“Perhaps you should sit,” Gabriel suggested.

 

Adrien ignored him, hands clenched at his sides. “Why would you do this?”

 

“For you, her -- for our family! Don’t you see, Adrien? After I make our wish, everyone’s suffering can end. I’ll unmake the mistake that took your mother away from us. And when I do, none of this will matter.”

 

“All those people…”

 

“It will be forgotten,” Gabriel dismissed. “The sooner we can get the other miraculous, the fewer people we’ll have to sacrifice. We will wipe out the past, with a simple wish! I made a mistake, keeping this from you. Together, we’ll overcome our greatest obstacle and be happy once more.”

 

Feet leaden, Adrien nonetheless found the power to back away.

 

“Adrien--”

 

“I-- I can’t--”

 

“Take a deep breath, son.” Gabriel stepped toward him, reaching a hand toward his shoulder. “I should have prepared you better,” he lamented. “It’s cool in here, and I can see you’re shivering. We’ll go back upstairs, have a cup of tea and --”

 

Adrien ran.

 

Across the gangway, into the elevator, he mashed blindly at the buttons until the platform began its ascent. His father --  _ Hawk Moth _ \-- wasn’t following. It was only a matter of time. Appearing once again in the middle of the study, Adrien sprinted toward his room. He yanked a leather duffle down from the topmost shelf in his closet and in a frenzy began stuffing it full of anything he could get his hands on.

 

Plagg popped out of his hiding place, silent with the gravity of their situation. In a rare show of foresight he phased through the walls into Nathalie’s office, slipping unseen into a file cabinet near her desk. He’d explored here on a few occasions when bored, and remembered finding Adrien’s passport among the papers within.

 

Back in the closet, he dropped the booklet on top of the growing pile as Adrien dashed into the bathroom for toiletries. Plagg spared a brief, longing gaze toward the mini fridge as he passed -- it had been restocked just yesterday. Arriving at the desk, he gathered up his holder’s wallet and cell phone. 

 

Adrien emerged from the closet with his overstuffed duffle and grabbed his schoolbag. Plagg handed him the wallet and phone.

 

“Thanks,” Adrien muttered, surveying his childhood bedroom for anything he’d forgotten.  _ This will have to do _ , he thought.

 

“Claws out.”

 

***

 

Arriving at the convenience shop, Chat Noir dropped into the alley and de-transformed. His escape had been a little too easy, but Adrien knew he couldn’t relax just yet. 

 

He entered the store, gathering up three granola bars and a liter of water, as well as a few cheese snacks for Plagg. At the counter he purchased a burner sim card and used the ATM to withdraw one hundred euros. The clerk gave him a wary glance, but shady customers were hardly abnormal in this arrondissement.

 

Stuffing his purchases into his school bag Adrien thanked the man before slinking back into the alley and transforming once again.

 

After traversing the breadth of Paris, Chat Noir lit upon the roof of Notre Dam. Settling himself, he pulled out his phone and inserted his new secondary sim card. Unsettled, he noted that neither his father nor Nathalie had made any attempt to contact him. He blocked their numbers and a few others, then withdrew his ATM card from his wallet.

 

The bank’s 24-hour service number was barely legible in the dark, but he managed to punch it in with fingers trembling from adrenaline. To his relief, the call went through almost immediately.

 

“To speak with a representative, please stay on the line. If you would like to open an account, close an account or transfer more than $1000 euros, please call back during regular business hours: 8:00 to 16:00, Monday through--”

Well, you can’t win them all.

 

As he returned the card to its sleeve, he caught sight of a slightly frayed manilla business card. Pulling it out he flipped it over and contemplated the scrawled phone number on the back.

 

_...if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me directly. _

 

He punched in the number, saving it to his contacts, and then pressed call. A few rings passed unanswered, and Adrien almost disconnected when a groggy voice picked up.

 

“Uh-- hi; this is Adrien. A-Agreste. Sorry if this is a bad time to call...”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Fun Fact:
> 
> There is no "reveal" in this story in the *traditional* sense. 
> 
> I know what you're thinking -- "What the #&@$*^!?!?!?" -- but rest assured I can virtually 100% guarantee that the end will be satisfying. If you need a hint for reassurance, check out the spoiler alert at the end.

“Thank you.” Adrien breathed in the rich steam from the coffee cup Dr. Gros offered. With weary hands he gripped the corrugated sleeve, its radiating warmth a salve to his battered soul.

 

The older man smiled in response and moved to sit in the usual chair opposite his troubled client. “Rough night,” he empathized. “How are you doing?”

“I’m --” Adrien faltered, looking into the inky depths of his cup for the right words, “feeling surreal.”

 

“Take your time,” Dr. Gros comforted. “Where did you stay, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“With a friend,” Adrien mumbled, refusing to meet the man’s gaze.

  
  
  


_ Chat Noir slunk against the wall in the darkness. Slipping quietly from the bell tower stairs into the sanctuary, he was relieved to see the nave and pews empty. He leapt to the triforium. It was rather narrow, but sufficient for a light rest. Sleep would be futile anyway. _

 

_ His bags safely stowed, the hero of Paris slid down the column at his back into a slump. With the immediate threat addressed he could feel the rush of adrenaline receding, leaving him empty and lost. Under the circumstances, holding his transformation would be the wisest choice. Staring at the cross below, he knew he wasn’t truly alone. Nonetheless... _

 

_ “Claws in.” _

 

_ Plagg found purchase on his hunched shoulders, and nuzzled up to the young man’s cheek. “You did good, kid,” he purred. _

 

_ Silent tears streamed down Adrien’s cheeks. _

  
  
  


Dr. Gros pulled out the packet he’d gathered the night before, spreading it out on the coffee table between them. “I pulled together some resources -- phone numbers, addresses for social service offices. We can get you an emergency protective order, if necessary, until you’re eighteen--”

 

“Yesterday was my birthday,” Adrien mumbled.

 

“Oh.” The doctor’s face fell before he quickly summoned up a wry smile. “Well, one less thing we need to worry about, then.” He sat back, then, and waited.

 

“My father…” Adrien shook his head and started again. “My mother is alive.”

 

He missed the unchecked shock that widened Dr. Gros’ eyes, turning his unfocused gaze to the floor. “She-- she’s on life support,” he continued sedately. “Father has been trying to cure her.”

 

The doctor frowned. Granted it had been many years since his medical residency, and he had little occasion to spend time in critical care, but something didn’t quite add up. “So Madame Agreste has been on life support for the last four years at a hospital here in Paris?”

 

“No, she’s being cared for … elsewhere.”

 

The reply was unsatisfying, but Dr. Gros knew better than to probe.

 

Adrien exhaled, rubbing his hands over his reddened eyes. “She can’t be cured, but Father… won’t accept that.” He closed his eyes. “He wants me to help him.”

 

“Help him…?” the doctor echoed.

 

How to explain? In between bouts of despair, Adrien had spent his long, sleepless night sifting through the pieces of his story to find a narrative he could safely share. There was simply too much at stake to risk a slip up.

 

“My father is involved in some... unethical dealings,” he hedged, “that I can’t support.”

 

“Can you be more specific?”

 

Adrien shook his head.

 

“Would this be a matter for the police?”

 

The young man’s head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “No!” Seeing the dubious expression on Dr. Gros’s face, Adrien struggled to come up with a satisfactory explanation. “No, it… it’s not something that would be suitable for the police.” 

 

The notion that he might be aiding the son of a French mafia boss passed through the elder man’s mind, and he wondered if he shouldn’t place a call after their session. He quickly dismissed the idea, however, as he considered the young man before him. Gabriel Agreste’s probable sins aside, Dr. Gros knew Adrien Agreste to be a moral and ethical young man. If he didn’t want to involve the authorities, then the doctor would respect his wishes.

 

“All right, so he revealed your mother’s medical condition and then asked that you assist him in,” the doctor waved his hand as he searched for the words, “some kind of business deal.”

 

“Yes,” Adrien confirmed.

 

“Given the tone of your call last night, I gather you refused and he did not take it well?”

 

“Not exactly. I didn’t give him an answer. I was so upset I just… packed a bag and… ran.”

 

He knew the answer before he spoke but Dr. Gros asked, “what do you plan to do from here?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you see yourself returning home?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

  
“No.”

 

Nodding, the doctor leaned forward and plucked a canary yellow sheet from the packet on the table. “Let’s start there, then. This sheet has a list of local hostels and shelters. Your best bet will be the hostels -- most of the shelters are for women and children. If you are interested in securing more permanent housing, I can put you in touch with my cousin. He’s a real estate agent working in single-person housing.”

 

“I’d appreciate that,” Adrien replied quietly.

 

The doctor quickly reviewed the other sheets, scrawling a few additional numbers and websites on them. A knock on the door from the receptionist drew their attention to the hour, and with reluctance Dr. Gros bid his patient goodbye.

 

First period wouldn’t start for another hour, so Adrien took his time walking the six blocks to school.

 

Plagg was incredulous. “You’re going to school?”

 

“What else should I do?” Adrien shot back.

 

“Calling Ladybug would be a good start,” the kwami criticized.

 

“And say…?”

 

A cyclist rang his bell, and Plagg ducked back into Adrien’s shirt as the man passed.

 

“She needs to know.”

 

“I’ll tell her,” Adrien insisted, frustrated, “but not yet. Father hasn’t come after me; he might be expecting me to go to the police. I just... need a little time.”

 

Plagg levelled a flat stare at the young man. “And what about patrol tomorrow?”

 

Adrien cursed under his breath.

 

Arriving at the school, he was relieved to find the grounds relatively empty. He slipped unnoticed into the boy’s bathroom where he took time to wash his face and put his hair in some semblance of order. Plagg rolled his eyes, grumbling about his vanity, but remained otherwise silent.

 

At eight, he pulled out his cell and called the bank once again. The hold music grated on his nerves while the minutes stretched and he watched his schoolmates heading toward their classes. He reached customer service just as the bell rang. The lady was kind but firm as she explained that he would have to visit a branch in order to open a new account. As a stop-gap he placed a lock on his old account, then headed off to class with a new item on his to-do list.

 

***

 

“He’s locked his account,” Nathalie announced from the doorway to the study.

 

Gabriel hummed his acknowledgement. “I expected as much.”

 

Waiting for further instructions that didn’t come, Nathalie frowned. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

 

“Nothing,” he replied. His index finger slid on the screen as he filled in the bodice of the gown with a muted olive color. “He loves his mother,” Gabriel spoke once again. “I should have considered the impact of this information and taken more precautions. But no matter: he’ll return.”

 

“You seem very sure of that.”

 

Gabriel frowned. “He’s my son.”

 

“He’s also Chat Noir,” she pointed out. That they’d already known of his secret identity made the footage of Chat exiting Adrien’s bedroom the prior evening no less damning.

 

Jaw tensing, Gabriel lifted his eyes from the work on his tablet to glare at his assistant. “He will return.”

 

Nathalie sighed, “yes, sir,” and started to leave.

 

“Nonetheless, I should address his uncivilized behavior,” Gabriel ventured after a moment. “Take this down.”

 

****

 

Chat Noir thanked the stars above when Ladybug bowed out of patrol on Thursday night.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

 

“Sure.” Were it not for the suit, his baton would be slick with nervous sweat.

 

“It’s just,” Ladybug paused on the other end, “you sound sad.”

 

Chat grimaced. His lady was caring and insightful when it came to others; of course she would sense his distress. “It’s just family stuff,” he assured her, straining to relax his tone.

 

“If you want to talk about --”

 

“No!” Chat winced, and lowered his voice. “I’m just not in a talking mood.”

 

Silence stretched across the line and he knew he’d given himself away.

 

“Okay,” she relented at last, “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

 

****

 

Friday came, bringing with it the beginning onslaught of final projects and essay assignments for the semester. Crossing the inner courtyard after last bell, Nino invited Adrien over for a game marathon, which Adrien politely declined.

 

“Yeah, Dad’s still got the leash on, I get it. See you Monday, bro!”

 

Adrien puffed a sardonic sigh as he waved goodbye.

 

“You could have turned that into a sleepover,” Plagg pointed out.

 

Adrien spared the kwami a glance. “You’d still be stuck in my duffle bag the whole night,” he pointed out.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Plagg intoned.

 

A small, grateful smile lifted the corner of Adrien’s lips. “I know. It’s too risky. I won’t put my friends in danger.” Stretching, he worked out the kinks from two nights of hostel bedding. “Anyway, we’re going to meet Dr. Gros’ cousin to sign the papers for our new place right now. By this time tomorrow, we’ll have a home of our own.”

 

Upon emerging from the school’s front entrance, his stomach dropped. Fortifying himself with a deep breath, Adrien pulled back his shoulders and strode purposefully toward the curb.

 

“I’m not coming home,” he declared.

 

Standing her ground beside the silver sedan, Nathalie regarded him cooly. “I know. Your father has a message for you.” She handed over a sheet of paper, crisply folded with the Gabriel logo proudly emblazoned on its center.

 

> _ Adrien, _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I will not pretend to be pleased with your actions the other evening. My disappointment is nonetheless tempered by the realization that I, too, have erred in judgement. You are now a man, and I trust that you have been raised to conduct yourself accordingly. Please do not disappoint me further. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ We await your return. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Gabriel Agreste _
> 
>  
> 
> _ GA:ns _

 

The missive crumpled in his fist and Adrien raised steely eyes toward the woman who’d formerly managed the details of his life. She raised a brow before turning away to slip into the back seat of the sedan.

 

Adrien watched, breath held, until the car disappeared around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (SORT OF) SPOILER ALERT!
> 
> Reader, at the end of the story: So, you both know who Ladybug and Chat Noir are, right?  
> Marinette: I know, but I don’t *know* know, you know?  
> Adrien: What she said.


	21. Chapter 21

_ I should have asked Marinette to join me _ , Adrien mused as he studied the array of fabric swatches covering the wall. There was the risk, of course, that his new bachelor pad would end up bedecked in pink. Still, it would be better than the drab concrete walls and old, scratched up wood floors he was currently enduring.

 

He pulled down a large bundle from the upper shelves -- a grey, faux fur bedspread -- and gaped at the price tag before shoving it back onto the shelf.  _ Do I even need one of these? _ Returning to his cart, he moved on to the next section of the department store.  _ Now this should be easy _ , he reasoned.  _ How hard could it be to pick out a towel? _

 

As it turned out, very hard.

 

“Monsieur Agreste?”

 

Adrien turned at the woman’s voice. Her face was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

 

“Monique Brignac,” she graciously supplied. “I’m one of the senior retail buyers at Gabriel.”

 

“Yes, of course, nice to see you,” he returned. “How are you?”

 

“I’m doing well, all things considered.”

 

Adrien frowned at that, and the woman smiled faintly. “Our apartment burned down a couple of weeks ago. Fortunately we have good insurance, but I must confess it’s a chore to replace an entire household of linens and furnishings.”

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he replied, abashed.

 

“Oh, we’ll be fine. Besides, my daughter is thrilled about getting to replace her entire wardrobe.” Turning to the shelves she pulled down a few bath and hand towels and deposited them into her cart. “In times like these, I’m so grateful to be working for a man like your father. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t given me the last two weeks off to take care of things.”

 

“Happy employees make a healthy business,” Adrien repeated the mantra he’d heard so many times in his youth. If only his father had the same philosophy regarding the citizens of Paris. Looking back up at the dizzying collection of fluffy towels, he sighed. “Why are towels so complicated?”

 

Monique pursed her lips and turned to the display. “In general, there are two main considerations: weight and cotton variety. The heavier the material, the more luxurious it feels -- but it also takes longer to dry. Egyptian cotton is a quality choice, and I personally prefer ringspun to combed or terry cloth for texture.” 

 

His expression still overwhelmed, she reached out and tapped on a label. “This is a good brand for an average budget.”

 

Adrien surveyed the multicolored stack she’d indicated and after a moment of indecision, pulled down a silver-hued bath sheet. 

 

Monique cleared her throat delicately. “Generally you’ll want at least two towels -- ideally three or more -- so you’re not doing laundry every day.”

 

Nodding, he reached back up and pulled down two more, dropping them into the cart. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re very welcome,” she smiled, and started to push her cart down the aisle. “Have a lovely weekend, and please say hello to your father for me.”

 

“Humans love to overcomplicate things,” Plagg groused when she’d left. “We kwamis like to keep it simple: Food, water, and a nice nap.”

 

“And just how many varieties of cheese did we buy this morning?” Adrien queried him, brow raised.

 

Plagg rolled his eyes.

 

Adrien made his way toward the cashier where he unloaded his assortment of home goods. A display of mints caught his eye and on impulse, he added the tin to his collection. The cashier rang up the stunning total and he gaped, but nonetheless swiped his shiny, new debit card.

 

The subway car home was surprisingly empty for a Saturday morning, allowing Plagg to escape the confines of his holder’s shirt pocket. “Glad that’s out of the way. So, are we going to call Ladybug before or after lunch?”

 

The question was met with the flat expression he’d had come to expect at the topic. 

 

“Look, you needed time. I get it,” he acknowledged, “But, it’s been three days now.”

 

“There hasn’t been a single akuma since Tuesday,” Adrien pointed out. “Maybe my leaving changed his mind?”

 

The black cat shook his head. “Kid, you know I’m the first one to take the easy way out,” Plagg reminded him, “but I can count on my whiskers the amount of times a problem was solved by running away from it.”

 

Adrien turned his gaze out the window into the darkness of the subway tunnel. “A lot of people work for Father,” he quietly ruminated. He thought about Madame Brignac and her destroyed apartment. He recalled the kind, assistant dresser, Marie, who had taken an extended, paid leave to care for her premature baby. And he remembered Monsieur Comtois -- the older gentleman had been his father’s lead accountant since before Adrien was born. He was due to retire with a generous pension within the year. 

 

“If I reveal Father... what happens to them?”

 

Plagg settled on Adrien’s shoulder, his small body drooping. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “The question is, what will happen to everyone else if you don’t?”

 

***

 

Marinette yawned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she strained to finish the last paragraphs of her assigned reading before the bell rang. Perhaps it hadn’t been the smartest choice to forgo homework in favor of her current project, but the upcoming deadlines for both loomed large and, well, sewing was simply the more enjoyable of the two.

 

A shadow fell over the history book and she looked up in surprise to find Adrien towering above her. “Good morning,” he greeted her.

 

“Well, it’s morning, anyway,” she grumbled. She stretched a bit and took in the young man before her. He looked a bit more rumpled than usual, but his expression was as chipper as ever.

 

“Are you busy this weekend?”

 

Marinette blinked. “Um, kind of? I have a sewing project that I’m working on and I’m nowhere near ready for finals, but-- why do you ask?”

 

Adrien looked almost bashful, and Marinette was taken aback. A small blush bloomed across his cheeks as he scratched his neck in that way that always made her heart skip a beat. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on your time, but I was wondering…”

 

Bemused, Marinette smiled up at him. “Yes?”

 

“I thought maybe we could get together on Saturday. See a movie, or something?”

 

Marinette died.

 

The funeral was bittersweet; Alya wore a dress Madame Cheng had given her from her departed daughter’s wardrobe. Nino spun up appropriately somber tunes from his place at the graveside while Rose and Juleka tossed roses over the coffin. Even Chloe was there, weeping bitter tears at the--

 

“--Marinette?”

 

Jolted back to the present, Marinette met Adrien’s expectant gaze.

 

“A movie? Just you and me?”

 

He nodded, and shuffled his feet.

 

_ I could say yes _ , she thought.  _ It’s not like I’m in a relationship _ . Her heart ached at the memory of Chat’s hurt expression. Their happily ever after was far from assured, but if there was a chance-- she owed him her patience and in the interim, her fidelity.

 

“I can’t,” she lamented. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she hastened to add. “It’s just that, well, there’s this boy…”

 

An intense wave of deja vu crashed into Adrien like a tsunami.

 

“We’re not in a relationship or anything” she continued, a mild tremor in her voice, “but he’s been a really good friend of mine for a few years now, and, well, honestly I’m probably being stupid to pursue it--”

 

Adrien stayed her rambling with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re not stupid,” he assured, his green eyes warm with affection. “Any guy should count himself lucky to be yours.”

 

Marinette’s smile blossomed in return and his heart skipped a beat. “Alya and I are going to be reviewing organic chemistry on Wednesday, maybe you and Nino could-- oh, wait, you have Chinese that day.”

 

He shook his head emphatically. “No more Chinese lessons.”

 

Nino sauntered up to the pair, dropping his bag on the floor and sliding into his seat. “Did I just hear you say ‘no more Chinese lessons’?”

 

Adrien ignored him. “So, Wednesday. Where are you meeting?”

 

“Mari’s place.” Alya took her seat and turned a teasing grin on her friend. “I can’t believe you’re inviting these interlopers to girls’ night.”

 

“I promise to wear my prettiest dress,” Nino drawled.

 

Marinette giggled. “Would extra cream puffs make up for it?”

 

Appearing to consider the offer, Alya tapped her chin. “Make it eclairs, and we have a deal.”

 

***

 

“Make yourself at home,” Marinette waved toward her pink desk chair before climbing her way up to her loft bed. “Alya’s almost here and Nino-- well, you know how it is.”

 

Adrien chuckled, well-acquainted with Nino’s habitual tardiness. He took a look around the room. It hadn’t changed much from his prior visits. She’d taken down the magazine pictures from her walls, replacing them with concert posters and an impressive collection of design sketches. A tiny corner of his ego bruised with the minor rejection.

 

Letting his school bag drop to the floor beside him, Adrien leaned down to pull out his chemistry book and index cards. A familiar bit of blue caught his eye and he turned his head to see a skein of yarn almost hidden behind the leg of Marinette’s desk. With a trembling hand he reached for it, the softness of the thread ghosting over his fingers like a memory. “Looks like you have a runaway,” he murmured as he lifted the yarn up to eye level. He took a deep breath. “What kind of yarn is this?”

 

Marinette peered down at him from the edge of the loft. “Alpaca,” she supplied. “My Nonna sent some over from her trip to South America a few years ago.” Stretching herself across the mattress, she grasped for her cat pillow and tossed it over the railing to land with a thump on the rug below.

 

“Marinette, Alya’s here!”

 

She clambered back down the ladder and walked over to open the hatch just in time to see Alya’s grinning face peering back at her. “Is he here?”

 

Marinette gave her a look and pulled back to let her into the room. Nino followed close behind her.

 

“Oh my God, you actually came!” Alya exclaimed, pointing at Adrien. Expression suddenly resigned, she dug into her pocket to fish out a ten euro bill which she handed to a smirking Nino.

 

“You made a bet about that?”

 

Nino pocketed his winnings with a shrug. “Easy money.”

 

Alya dashed forward, dropping her bag and plopping down. “I call the chaise!”

 

Nino made his way over, and started to sit beside her.

 

“Nuh-uh,” Alya shooed him away. “No room at the inn.”

 

Huffing, Nino resigned himself to the floor as Adrien stood up. “Here, take the chair. I’m cool on the rug.”

 

Nino hesitated, but a subtle nudge from Alya made the decision for him and Adrien took a spot on the floor beside Marinette.

 

The four of them dove into their studies, taking turns quizzing each other on flashcards. With Adrien’s discipline keeping them in check, passing their finals was becoming a real possibility. Alya and Marinette were hovering over Nino as he struggled to balance a chemical reaction when Adrien’s stomach grumbled.

 

He grimaced. “Excuse me. I probably shouldn’t have skipped dinner.”

 

Alya sat up and stretched. “I could use a break anyway -- and I believe someone owes me eclairs?”

 

Marinette took the hint and retreated to the kitchen for snacks. As soon as she was out of earshot, Nino turned his full attention on Adrien. “So, did you decide if you’re going to ask her out?”

 

Adrien paused halfway through retrieving his history book. “I already did.”

 

“And?”

 

“She’s not interested.”

 

Nino and Alya exchanged a glance, then Alya grinned mischievously. “Double or nothing: Mari is Adrien’s date for the grad dance.”

 

Nino put out a hand to shake on it. “Just don’t expect me to loan you money when you’re broke.”

 

“You may know Adrien, but I know Marinette. This one’s in the bag,” she asserted.

 

A minute later the hatch lifted and a plate of pastries emerged. Alya took the plate from Marinette, who disappeared only to return with a stack of cups and a pitcher. Kicking the hatch closed behind her, Marinette started across the room. 

 

And tripped.

 

Adrien jumped and for a moment the room was silent. Marinette gaped in horror at the brightly-colored soda running down his front and spreading across his shirt. Nino could no longer contain his peels of laughter and Alya struggled in vain to cover her own giggles.

 

“OhmygodI’msosorryAdrienletmegetyouatowel--” Marinette thrust the pitcher in Alya’s direction and sped over to her closet. “I think I have a shirt you can wear, too.” Gathering a fluffy pink towel, Marinette could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading head to toe. She located a black, unisex shirt and added it to the stack.

 

Time slowed to a crawl when Marinette turned, catching Adrien as he lowered his arms and pulled the wet shirt from his wrists. He balled it up, dabbing at the residual soda running down his entirely bare chest.

 

_ Holy shit. _

 

Alya stepped back, slipping the towel and shirt from Marinette’s limp hands. “You’re staring,” she warned under her breath before handing the items over to Adrien. “The bathroom’s downstairs and to the left.”

 

He disappeared down the hatch and time continued to march forward.

 

“Your twenty’s as good as mine,” Alya taunted Nino.

 

Marinette barely heard her, still lost in a mental fog. 

 

_ Where did Adrien get a kwagatama?  _

 

*** 

 

Nathalie stood outside the imposing door of Gabriel Agreste’s study. Her shoulders hunched with dread, she took a deep breath and steeled herself before entering.

 

Gabriel’s hands gripped the podium in silent fury as he glared at the image of his son, head thrown back in laughter. His inbox chimed with another photo from the private investigator staked outside the Dupain-Cheng bakery, but he’d seen enough.

 

“One more day,” he ground out.

 

Nathalie closed her eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to add a chapter to clarify some points, so now we're expecting a total of 26. Not loving the way this came out, but between spending all day in the kitchen on Thursday and my poor, bored kindergartner interrupting every five minutes... Well, at least we're moving forward.
> 
> What do you call it when you have a de-transformed Chat and Ladybug but both are otherwise disguised? Ladynoir? Adrienette? Ladriechatnette? Whatever it is, it's coming soon(-ish) to a browser near you!

“I think I messed up.”

 

Dr. Gros glanced at Marinette as he paged through her chart for a blank page. “Oh?”

 

“Last week I surprised Charles with a date at the arcade. At first it seemed to be going well but...” She sighed, “I think maybe I read him wrong.”

 

“In what way?”

 

“I tried flirting and now he won’t even talk to me!” Marinette bit her lip and twisted her fingers in agitation. “Maybe he really wasn’t serious, and when I changed my mind...” she let the thought hang unfinished.

 

Dr. Gros nodded. “You made yourself vulnerable, and you’re feeling exposed.”

 

Her heart and mind troubled, Marinette sat in silence, watching the dance of shadows on the floor where the sun outside had woven between Spring’s early leaves. “I have no clue what I’m doing!” She groaned. Defeat transitioned into exasperation and she lifted her gaze back to the doctor. “Then Adrien asked me out -- can you believe i said no? And last night I drenched him in soda at my house--”

 

The doctor perked up at her words, clearing his throat to mask his surprise. “Adrien asked you out?”

 

She relayed the story, uncertainty lowering her shoulders. “Maybe I should have said yes? I mean, I don’t want to ruin any chance I may have with Cha- Charles, but like you said, it’s just a date, right?”

 

Dr. Gros tapped his pen thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. “Under the circumstances, I think you made the right choice.”

 

Marinette’s brow raised in an unspoken question and the doctor pursed his lips. He’d have to choose his words carefully to maintain both his professionalism and Adrien’s confidentiality. Perhaps a change in direction would be wise.

 

“The ancient Greeks categorized love into seven categories,” he started, lifting his hands for the countdown. “There’s philautia -- self-love -- which ranges from healthy self-esteem to selfishness; storge, the natural kind of love a mother has for her child; philia, the deep but platonic love between close friends; pragma, the enduring love common in lasting marriages; ludus, the flirtatious love in dating relationships; eros, the passionate love of a new relationship--”

 

Marinette felt her cheeks flush.

 

“-- and then there’s agape. Soul love. A wholly selfless, unconditional love.” Dr. Gros steepled his hands in thought. “Only you know how to categorize the feelings you had -- or, have -- for Adrien or Charles. The way we feel love changes with time and circumstance, and it is very much a personal experience.”

 

Dr. Gros pulled out a blank sheet of paper and handed it to his patient with a pen. “Let’s try a little exercise. We’ll focus on casual, erotic, platonic and agape love.” He waited as Marinette quickly jotted the categories onto the top of her paper. “When you first came to me, you were concerned that your interest in Adrien was obsessive. If we were to call those feelings love, which category would you use?”

 

Well, platonic was right out the door. Casual? No, that didn’t fit either.

 

“Eros isn’t strictly about sexual feelings,” Dr. Gros hinted. “More generally, it refers to overall physical attraction.”

 

 _Okay, fine. Probably some of that_ . She jotted it down, face pink with embarrassment. “But, I don’t think that’s all it was,” she wondered aloud. “There’s more to it than that.” _And if my suspicions are true..._

 

“Even with seven categories, love isn’t going to be strictly one or the other,” he acknowledged. “Different kinds often coexist. Shall we move on?”

 

Marinette nodded, scrawling a ‘C’ on the paper. Platonic as a category had been the perfect fit for her dependable partner. But now, she couldn’t deny that her feelings had developed a physical dimension. Biting her lip, she wrote both down.

 

Dr. Gros considered his patient. “Your feelings for Charles have changed.”

 

 _Did they?_ she wondered. _When Luka confessed to me, I didn’t feel the need to tell him there was someone else. It was obvious. I was flattered, but I didn’t love him in that way. It wasn’t the same with Chat, though._ Marinette closed her eyes, realization rising like the sun at dawn. _Because it’s not Chat I was trying to convince. It was me._

 

“No,” she whispered. “I think... I always loved him.”

 

 _But he doesn’t know that_ , Marinette mused. _I tried to turn things around without thinking about his feelings. Of course he ran away. He probably thought… I was mocking him._

 

“And your feelings for Adrien?”

 

Marinette shook off her inner thoughts. She’d need to sift through them later with Tikki. “I’m still attracted to him,” she ventured.

 

“But?”

 

Adrien was more than a celebrity classmate, he was a friend. _Still_ , she sighed, “I think maybe my feelings aren’t as unconditional as they once were.”

 

“And that, I think, is a good thing,” Dr. Gros concluded, sitting forward. “Agape may seem noble, but persistent, unrequited love can be unhealthy. Just as Charles needs time to process your new feelings, you should take time to decide if Adrien is worthy of the selfless love you’ve been offering.”

 

He leaned forward, patting Marinette’s hand where it gripped the couch. “If his feelings are genuine, he’ll wait for you.”

 

***

 

_Gardien, Keeper of Paper Goods_

 

Ladybug shook her head in disbelief as she surveyed the toilet-papered city below. She’d made it two steps out of Dr. Gros’ office before the dreaded akuma alert pinged from her clutch. At least Hawk Moth was gracious enough to wait until the session had concluded.

 

“I guess our akuma vacation has ended,” she mused sardonically.

 

“It’s the name tag,” Chat declared before leaping off the edge of the Arc de Triomphe.

 

“How do you…?” She shook her head -- he wouldn’t hear her anyway -- and followed his path down to the street below.

 

The janitor was already crumpling to the ground as she touched down beside him. When the purple haze surrounding him dissipated, the purple butterfly emerged and started its skyward ascent. A quick miraculous cure returned the city to cleanliness once more.

 

Well, it was free of toilet paper, anyway.

 

“Pound it?”

 

Chat met her fist with his, but the gesture was hollow. His thoughts seemed galaxies away as he muttered, “I’m going to go ahead and run patrol now. See you Sunday.” He was off before she could say goodbye.

 

***

 

_Polyglot_

 

“Hinse moo show tahn,” she uttered.

 

Chat Noir had a headache. _At least it’s Friday_ , he thought.

 

Face awash with frustration, Ladybug turned the polka-dotted book toward her partner. “Hinse moo show _tahn_ ,” she insisted.

 

Taking the book from her, Chat read the title. “Tongue Twisters for the Ages.” He levelled an incredulous look at his partner. “Somehow I don’t think we need more people speaking gibberish,” he pointed out.

 

“Moo tahn,” she urged, exasperated.

 

“All right LB, whatever you -- er -- say.” He vaulted over the alley wall and landed opposite their multilingual foe. “All right, if you’re such a linguistics expert,” he called, “then let’s see you get this right.” He opened the book to a passage in the middle and found an appropriate challenge for the woman. Slowly, carefully, he read the entry. “She sells seashells by the seashore.”

 

“Ridiculous!” she bellowed. “That’s a nonsense sentence!”

 

“So you’re a hypocrite.”

 

“Fine!” she stomped in aggravation. “She sells she-shells--”

 

Ladybug ripped the hairpin from Polyglot’s pristine bun, snapping it in half and releasing the akuma.

 

The woman swooned and Chat caught her. Exchanging a nervous glance with her partner, Ladybug tossed the yo-yo into the air. “Mir- miraculous Ladybug!”

 

 _Oh, thank God_ , she thought, relieved, as the ladybugs swarmed to repair the trivial damage the professor had caused.

 

“Hey, Chat, do you have a minute?”

 

He shook his head and it seemed he refused to meet her eyes. “Sorry LB, I’m running late. See ya Sunday!”

 

***

 

“Sorry I’m late,” Adrien exhaled as he plopped onto the sofa.

 

“You’re my last appointment of the week,” Dr. Gros excused, waving him off. Taking his own seat, he crossed a leg over his knee and settled in. “So, how have you been?”

 

“Good,” Adrien chirped.

 

Dr. Gros frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

 

“Thanks to your cousin, I have a great new apartment. I eat _pain au chocolat_ for breakfast every morning if I want. And no more Chinese, piano or fencing lessons, which means more time to spend with my friends.” He shrugged, the gesture artificially blasé. “I’m living the dream.”

 

“I see. You’ve gone fully no-contact, then?”

 

There was a tell-tale hesitation in Adrien’s response as he nodded.

 

Dr. Gros sat back in silence, his fingers steepled in contemplation. “You took a huge step last week. Confronting and escaping from an abusive situation is no small feat, and you should be proud of yourself.

 

“However, please understand that it was a _first_ step. Statistically speaking, victims return to their abusers at least once before making a final break. Distance has a way of de-emphasizing the negative memories and bringing the positive ones forward.”

 

“I’m not going back,” Adrien insisted and with a lower voice added, “I can’t.”

 

His smile sad, Dr. Gros took a deep breath. “Adrien. Your face -- your very name -- is intimately linked with your father’s brand. I don’t want to discourage you, but sooner or later you need to face reality. You can’t hide your head in the sand and hope it all goes away.”

 

“Ha!”

 

Adrien’s eyes widened and he quickly feigned a cough. “Ahem!” He slapped his chest roughly, clearing his throat to muffle the indignant yelp in his shirt pocket.

 

“I don’t believe you can be held responsible for any contracts signed prior to your eighteenth birthday,” Dr. Gros considered. “However, it is possible that Gabriel can seek an injunction to prevent you from modelling for a period of time. I suggest you find an attorney to represent your interests on that front.”

 

Adrien tried to focus on the doctor’s advice, but his words about career prospects and trademark infringement were quickly filed away under the heading ‘problems for another day.’ It all mattered very little while Hawk Moth maintained his grip on the citizens of Paris. Of course, Adrien wasn’t quite ready to face _that_ situation, either.

 

The door to their apartment wasn’t even closed when Plagg flew out of Adrien’s jacket pocket and turned a glare on the young man.

 

“That’s two days in a row,” he bit out, paws raised in the air.

 

Adrien tossed the jacket onto a nearby chair and exhaled. “He’s just testing me.”

 

“And if you don’t go to Ladybug now, you’re going to fail that test,” Plagg spit back. He watched in irritation as Adrien climbed out the window and draped himself over the wrought iron fence of his false balcony. “Kid--”

 

“No!”

 

Adrien’s eyes were clenched shut and his hands were white where they gripped tight to the iron bars. “He’s my _father_ , Plagg.”

 

The charged silence between them dragged on. Plagg’s whiskers twitched in agitation and he seriously considered the ramifications of seeking out Ladybug directly.

 

“If I go to the police,” Adrien started, “then I’m putting them in danger. If I go to Ladybug… how can I go to Ladybug? She’ll want to know how I found him, and then?” He shook his head, turning back to the black kwami with glassy eyes. “These last two akumas were nothing. He’s just throwing a tantrum. I can get through to him; I know I can. But I can’t--” his voice cracked, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t lose the only family I have left.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the first half of what was supposed to be chapter 23. Since it was getting too long, I broke it up; the second half is going to be chapter 24, and it's almost done.  
> (It's one of those four chapters I couldn't wait to write!!!)

**_Speedster_ **

**Saturday, 7:01**

 

_Nino looked beautiful in the evening gown. She’d made a great choice in giving it to him -- green was definitely not her color._

 

_“Not so sure about this shade,” he hummed, catching his reflection in the mirror. “It screams ‘Chat Noir’. But I’ll take it.”_

 

_The distant sound of church bells broke him from his reverie and he gathered up his headphones. “Anyway, I gotta jet. Rena’s taking me to the races.” He leaned toward her conspiratorially, “She says the fox is gonna win, but all my money’s on the tortoise!”_

 

_“I thought it was tortoise versus hare?” she questioned, but Nino was gone._

 

_“Akuma!”_

 

_She ignored the call -- Volpina could handle it -- and turned back to her locker to pull out the teacups._

 

_“Are we having lunch in the kitchen?”_

 

_“Yes, mon ange,” her mother replied._

 

_She set the pitcher on the table too quickly and it tipped, spilling its contents across the kitchen floor. “Thank you, Marinette,” Sabine sang. “Don’t forget about the akuma!”_

 

_A hand gripped her arm, turning her around to face--_

 

_“Adrien?”_

 

_She’d never seen that expression in his eyes. Depth, longing… almost hungry. Her knees weakened and her eyes slipped closed as he leaned in closer._

 

_Closer._

 

_“Don’t worry,” his breath ghosted over her lips, “I’ll get rid of the akuma for you.”_

 

_Where Adrien was all subtlety and tenderness, his kiss was passionate, devouring. She should have been alarmed, but her body betrayed her and she wound her arms around him. Her fingers traced paths down the muscles of his back, which moved beneath her fingers under..._

 

_...spandex?_

 

_Her eyes flew open to meet the inhuman glow of Chat’s adoring gaze. “I told you not to worry about it, Bugaboo. Let me deal with the akuma.”_

 

_Akuma? What aku-_

 

“--ma! Marinette, wake up!”

 

Splash!

 

Marinette sat up spluttering, furiously wiping the cold water from her eyes. “Hey!”

 

Tikki tossed the teen’s cell phone at her, nearly smacking the girl in the face.

 

On the screen, a scrolling alert rolled beneath the worried face of news anchor Nadja Chamack. “--tuning in, we’re tracking Speedster, who was last spotted on Rue de la Pompe. Please stay indoors and take cover. Chat Noir is on the scene--”

 

Rolling out of bed, Marinette winced at the chilly cling of her wet pajama top. “Was that really necessary?”

 

Tikki shrugged. “You weren’t waking up.”

 

“Maybe because it’s only--” she glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed and her eyes bugged out, “-- seven in the morning on a Saturday!” 

 

The kwami had no reply, floating patiently in wait. 

 

Marinette groaned. “Okay, okay. Spots on!”

 

***

 

**_Jogger, Freezer of All Things Vehicular_ **

**Sunday, 6:53**

 

“Nope! Don’t care.”

 

“Marinette…”

 

“It’s Sunday,” Marinette whined, plopping her pillow over her head. “La la la. I can’t hear it--”

 

Tikki tugged at the pillow in frustration. “People are being frozen in place!”

 

“Good,” she shot back. “Then they’ll still be there in two hours when _normal_ people wake up.”

 

“Marinette!”

 

“Argh!”

 

***

 

**_Barista: No, I Won’t Get the Manager_ **

**Sunday, 13:22**

 

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

 

Marinette closed her eyes. _Two in one day?_ _Breathe in..._

 

Tikki had opened her mouth to speak when Marinette leaned forward with a heavy sigh and rose from her desk chair. She popped her embroidery needle into a nearby pincushion and draped the shimmering fabric of the unfinished dress on her desk.

 

“So much for that nap I was counting on...”

 

***

 

**_Opinionator: Will You Rate your Akumatization?_ **

**Monday, 12:06**

 

“I didn’t want to eat lunch anyway,” Ladybug groused.

 

This had to be confirmation: Hawk Moth kept tabs on the school system’s academic calendar. Finals were only two weeks away, after all.

 

“Death by a thousand cuts,” Chat murmured.

 

“What?”

 

He shook his head, “nothing,” and leapt ahead of her.

 

***

 

**_Mister Rat_ **

**Tuesday, 14:43**

 

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

 

Ladybug tapped her foot impatiently as the flurry of insects did their work. 

 

Beside her, Monsieur Ramier stood perplexed. “I wasn’t even that upset!” he cried.

 

Chat turned to check on his weary partner, but she’d already run off. Instead, he patted the man on the back in consolation. “It’s not your fault,” he assured. _It’s mine._

 

***

 

**_Bookworm_ **

**Wednesday, 11:51…**

 

“That jerk couldn’t wait until after third period? I was up all night studying for this history quiz!”

 

Chat chanced a glance in her direction, his heart weighed down with guilt at the fatigue in her posture. Hawk Moth would have to give up sooner or later.

 

Right...?

 

Their latest opponent was dispatched with ease once again. As was their custom of late, the superheroes dispensed with the farewells, performing a perfunctory “pound it” before running off to de-transform.

 

**_… and Paper Cut_ **

**Wednesday, 12:23**

 

Only to toss snacks at their kwamis and return once more.

 

“This is in violation of the French Labor Code,” Ladybug ground out.

 

“I don’t think those laws apply to careers in superheroism,” Chat sighed.

 

Paper Cut tossed a volley of cardstock like ninja stars, just missing the pair. “After I get your miraculous--”

 

“--you’ll rid the world of paper, and there will be peace on Earth. Got it,” Ladybug drawled before turning to her partner. “The stapler?”

 

“Probably.”

 

Chat cataclysm-ed, Ladybug healed and the pair pounded it.

 

“Ladybug?”

 

She paused in her retreat, looking back to her partner. “Yes?”

 

Chat spoke softly, his eyes curiously averted. “You can sit out the next one.”

 

Ladybug blinked, turning toward him fully. “Meaning…?”

 

“These last few attacks haven’t been very difficult; I can probably handle it alone. You need a break.”

 

“And you don’t?” She shook her head. “We have no way of knowing what’s coming next.”

 

“LB--”

 

“No,” she insisted firmly, feeling uneasy at the slump of his shoulders. _Something’s eating at you, Chat. Please, talk to me._ When he didn’t argue further, she sighed and turned away. “I’ll see you around.”

 

***

 

The sun rose Thursday morning with a cheery brightness. The birds sang. The clouds billowed.

 

Seven days. 

Nine akumas.

 

Adrien’s nerves were shot.

 

Thus, he felt appropriately numb when a courier accosted him on the steps of his school, handing him a letter and requesting his signature of receipt. He signed the clipboard and stuffed the unopened envelope in his school bag before making his way to the first class of the day.

 

Marinette was already in the classroom, fielding a suspicious interrogation from her best friend.

 

“I told you, Alya, nothing’s wrong. I went to bed early, woke up early, and that’s all.” 

 

Alya grimaced, clearly unsatisfied with the reply. 

 

“I had a rough week, okay? But I got a good night’s sleep -- for once -- and everything’s fine now. What’s up with the third degree, anyway?”

 

Alya toyed with her pen anxiously. “You were practically the walking dead yesterday.”

 

Nino turned at that, glance shifting between the duo and his best friend. “Yeah, Adrien, too. What’s up with that? We don’t have a paper due this week, do we?”

 

Adrien shook his head. Having pulled the letter back out of his bag, he now slid a finger under the envelope, carefully pulling it apart and extracting the paper within.

 

The crisp and white, the note bore the familiar Gabriel letterhead. He hadn’t made it past the salutation when he stood up suddenly, hands trembling.

 

“Bro, you okay?”

 

He was going to be sick. Without a word, Adrien fled from the classroom and dashed down the hall toward the bathroom. He popped into the first stall, locking the door behind himself. His breath came in ragged, heaving gasps as he struggled not to hyperventilate.

 

Plagg, having carefully phased through the walls unnoticed, hovered before him. “What happened back there, kid?”

 

Lacking a reply, the kwami drifted down to where the letter hung limp from Adrien’s pallid fingers.

>   
>    
> 
> 
> Monsieur Chat Noir,
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully this letter finds you in excellent health.
> 
>  
> 
> As you grow into adulthood, you will come to understand several things. For example, that one of the benefits of success -- and its concomitant wealth -- is the abundance of leisure time it affords. Indeed over the last few years I’ve had the privilege of spending a great deal of time and energy in the pursuit of my higher goal.
> 
>  
> 
> I have all the time in the world to persevere in my efforts. 
> 
>  
> 
> Do you? 
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> My Fondest Regards,
> 
> Your Father, G. A.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> P.S. Please extend my greetings to Mademoiselle Ladybug.

  
  
  


Plagg rose to eye level, whiskers twitching with agitation. “He knows.”

 

Adrien recovered at Plagg’s words, closing his eyes as if to hide. “This doesn’t change anything.”

 

“The hell it doesn’t!” Plagg retorted.

 

As footsteps approached the pair fell silent, trading heated glares between them. To Plagg’s chagrin and Adrien’s relief, the door swung open.

 

“Adrien, you in here?”

 

Plagg was quickly shooed away and Adrien flushed the toilet as he took a moment to compose himself. “Yeah, I’m here.”

 

“You ran out of class like you saw a ghost. What happened?”

 

Sliding open the lock, Adrien emerged from the stall and walked over to the sinks. “I felt sick,” he replied. “Must have been something I ate.”

 

Nino didn’t look convinced, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Gonna be okay?”

 

Drying his hands, Adrien walked past him toward the door. “Let’s get back to class.”

  
  


***

 

He had one week left.

 

Plagg gobbled down his gouda wedge with furor, ears twitching at the racket coming from the kitchen. He’d stayed up far too late the previous night, refusing to drop the subject of Adrien’s compromised identity until the young man had passed out mid-rant.

 

Their one saving grace was that Monsieur Hawk Moth Agreste would be leaving Paris late tonight for a five-day fashion expo in New York City. Past experience suggested that akuma activity would abate for the duration of his trip. Therefore, Plagg had come down with a silent ultimatum. Adrien had until the following Friday to resolve the situation. After that, the kwami would seek out Ladybug himself.

 

He hoped with all his might that Adrien would make the right choice -- the integrity of their bond depended on it.

 

The music on the radio stopped playing, disrupted by an emergency signal that beeped in harmony with Adrien’s phone alert. Plagg shot a knowing look toward the young man, who dropped the towel in his hands and studiously avoided the kwami’s glare.

 

“Claws out.”

 

Police were already on location, crouched beside their patrol cars as they monitored the situation. Chat landed beside the lead car and took a quick look around. Ladybug wasn’t there, but he’d anticipated that -- the scene was just down the street from his apartment and far from the arrondissement he suspected Ladybug inhabited.

 

“This started as a domestic violence call,” Office Raincomprix informed him, watching the apartment building they were surrounding. “We saw the akuma just as we were getting ready to go in.”

 

Seemingly on cue, a window toward the upper story smashed and a stout, green imp burst through. The creature swung from the sill, grasping what appeared to be a belt in its chubby right hand. Moments later a second imp appeared -- yellow, this time -- and leapt from the window dragging its partner to the ground. A cloud of smog coalesced around them as they wrestled, slowly spreading out along the ground.

 

“Sir! At the window!” a second officer gestured to the broken window, where a young girl looked out in fright. Ivan Bruel soon appeared behind her, resting his hands protectively on her shoulders as he tried to draw her away from the shards of glass.

 

Chat plucked his baton from its resting place. First, he’d get the bystanders to safety. Then he’d keep the imps busy until his lady arrived. He dashed toward the main entry, keeping a safe distance from the brawling pair.

 

Once inside he leapt up the stairs three at a time, making it to the fourth floor in haste. The front door was obliterated, and as he neared his nostrils were assaulted with an inhuman stench. Pinching his nose, he darted inside and came face to face with his classmate and the young girl.

 

“I’ve got her,” Chat assured, coughing, as he lifted the crying child from Ivan’s arms. “Follow me.”

 

The trio exited the building and made a quick run for the shelter of a nearby police car as Ladybug arrived at the scene. She approached her partner, shrinking back and covering her nose as she neared.

 

“Bickering spouses,” Chat summarized. His eyes watered from the remanent stench. “It appears their ‘power’ is that awful smog they’re giving off. From what I’ve seen, they’re both very preoccupied with that belt they’re tugging.”

 

The heroes split up, each appearing behind one of the battling imps. The smelly miasma surrounding them proved overwhelming, forcing a temporary retreat. Ladybug called upon her lucky charm, and was rewarded with a clothespin.

 

“Only one,” she noted apologetically.

 

“You hold, I destroy,” Chat suggested.

 

Ladybug nodded, clipping her nose and giving her partner the nod. They leapt into the fray, Ladybug pulling the weaker, yellow imp toward herself while simultaneously kicking back the green one. Chat swooped in immediately, cataclysm at the ready. The belt dissolved between them, and the purple butterfly rose into the air.

 

Safely on the ground, the imps transformed into Madame Bruel and her husband. The latter rose quickly, rounding on his wife in fury. “See what you did? Your cheating ass got me akumatized!”

 

Chat’s eyes narrowed as the man reached down for a piece of splintered wood lying at his feet. Before he could swing, Chat tackled him around the waist, pulling back on his arm to prevent the intended blow from making contact.

 

Across the street, Ladybug cleansed the akuma and cleared up the damage before making her way over to the police car holding Ivan and his sister.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Ivan shook his head. “Stepdad says Mom’s cheating on him, and they got into a big fight. I don’t think they’re done yet, and Cecily--” he stopped himself, looking over at his whimpering sister.

 

Officer Raincomprix patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be taking them both into custody, and get social services involved for your sister’s care.”

 

“The hell you will!”

 

Ladybug saw the heavy, glass projectile hurtling toward the officer and slid herself in its path. The broken tequila bottle slammed into her forehead, its sharp edge cutting a clean slice above her left eye.

 

Two officers rushed to restrain the hysterical woman. Chat leapt above the scene and landed beside his partner, anger and concern etched across his features.

 

“I’m okay,” she insisted, as her earrings and his ring gave their first warning beeps. She took a step forward, but stumbled.

 

“LB…”

 

Shaking her head, a jolt of pain gave her pause and she winced. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired from all the activity lately.” She stood straighter, pushing out her first. “Pound it?”

 

Chat met her celebratory gesture with his own, sweeping a wary gaze over her.

 

Ladybug detached her yo-yo.

 

And fumbled.

 

Chat stepped closer, guilt weighing on him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders but she gave him a shrug and a shy grin. “What did I tell you when we first met? I’m a clumsy girl.” Hesitantly, she lifted a hand to pat him gently on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

She started off again on foot, making it about ten paces before she stalled. Slowly, her eyes betraying the fear rising within her, she turned back to her partner. “I don’t…” she bit her lip, glancing around before settling her gaze on him. “I don’t remember where I…”

 

Chat strode to her side once again, thumbing a trickle of blood from her forehead where it had started trailing toward her mask. “I’m getting you to the hospital,” he declared.

 

The fear in her gaze bloomed into full alarm. “No!  No, I can’t-- they won’t be able to treat me as Ladybug.”

 

“Then go in as yourself,” he countered. “I’ll drop you near the emergency center and you can detransform before you go in.”

 

“And when they call my parents in? How would I explain this?” Their miraculous beeped again, and she sighed, “I’m sure I’ll be fine with some rest. I promise to head straight home.”

 

Chat crossed his arms, levelling a challenging gaze on his stubborn partner. “Do you remember where home is?”

 

Ladybug bit her lip.

 

“You can come to my place.” His tone brooked no argument, but that had never stopped her before.

 

“Chat--”

 

“I live alone; just moved in. As long as you don’t go snooping, there’s nothing that would identify me in the apartment.” His ring beeped at him again. “We’re both about to transform, and my place is only a couple of blocks away.”

 

She remained silent, but he could see the hesitation sweep through her and grasped at the straw like a lifeline.

 

“It’s probably just a concussion,” he allowed, “but I’m not letting you wander off alone. Either the hospital or hang out with me for the evening: your choice.”

  
 _This is a bad idea_ , Ladybug thought. On the other hand, her parents had left town for the weekend and Tikki wasn’t equipped to handle medical emergencies. Heaving a resigned sigh, Ladybug closed her eyes. “Okay, fine. Lead the way.”


	24. Chapter 24

They touched down just past the open window. Chat let Ladybug down from his hold and stepped back to give her space.

 

“The bathroom is just over there, next to the bed,” he indicated. “Help yourself to some washcloths for the cut. I’ll find a change of clothes for you.”

 

She nodded and slipped into the bathroom just in time for their respective transformations to wear off.

 

Adrien ducked into the fridge, tossing a bit of cheese toward Plagg before moving to his tiny closet where he dug up a pair of grey sweatpants and a light blue tee. He laid the clothes on the edge of his bed nearest the bathroom.

 

“Tikki’s all about the cookies, right? I have a box of Cocoa Crinkles in the cupboard. I’ll set it on the table and she can help herself.”

 

“Thank you Chat!” the kwami chirped.

 

His guests’ immediate needs taken care of, Adrien walked toward the window. “I’m going to head out to pick up some things. I’ll warn you before I come back in.”

 

He transformed once again and exited, grateful that his window was sufficiently obscure from public view. Ten minutes later he returned, paper bag in hand. “I’m back,” he called out from the faux balcony.

 

Pausing until he heard the bathroom door click shut, he rounded the window to hop inside. He set the bag on the kitchen table and let his transformation drop as he returned to the closet for the Jagged Stone tee his father had never allowed him to wear. In a moment of whimsy, he plucked a fedora from the top shelf and added it to the ensemble.

 

From the bag he extracted a few assorted eye coverings. “Mask or sunglasses?” he called from across the room.

 

“Mask,” came the muffled reply.

 

After slipping the black mask under the door he selected a pair of fashionable sunglasses from the pile and put them on.

 

“All set?” Marinette called from a crack in the doorway.

 

“Yes.”

 

Marinette emerged from the bathroom.

 

“Sugarcube!”

 

A black blur raced across her field of vision, tackling Tikki midair. The little red kwami eeped in surprise, but hugged her old friend warmly.

 

“The previous tenant left a birdhouse attached to the guardrail,” Adrien told her. “Plagg destroyed one of my pillows stuffing it with fluff; it should be very cozy.”

 

Plagg didn’t need any further prompting, tugging Tikki behind him out the window.

 

Marinette giggled at the pair as Adrien took in the sight of his lady, practically swimming in his tee and the black mask adorning her face. Just above it, her cut hadn’t quite finished clotting and he frowned at the fresh red trickle.

 

“Have a seat,” he pulled out a chair at the table. “I bought a pack of bandages while I was out.”

 

She lowered herself on the chair as Adrien fished for the antiseptic spray and bandages. Pulling a single bandage from the box, he stuck his tongue out at her and she rolled her eyes. Ladybug themed. Of course.

 

Sitting down in front of her, he reached forward to push her bangs aside. She startled a bit and he paused.

 

“I can do it,” she pointed out.

 

He met her eyes, imploring. “So can I. Please?”

 

Marinette sat back, pouting a bit but allowing him to tend to her cut. “I didn’t know you had your own place.” Her observation was tinged with a hint of melancholy he couldn’t quite understand.

 

After stretching the bandage across her forehead, he sat back and regarded her. “It’s a recent development.”

 

Something in his tone caught her notice and her gaze turned inquisitive. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the family troubles you mentioned last week, would it?”

 

“Would you like something to drink?” he rose quickly, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste.

 

_ He still won’t talk to me _ , Marinette noted, frowning. _ And really, I can’t hold that against him. I’m the one who kept insisting we keep our daily lives separate. _ She gave him a polite smile and nodded.

 

As he set about gathering and filling two cups, she took a moment to study her surroundings. The studio was small, but comfortable. Its brick walls were freshly painted in a warm white finish and the floors, while scuffed, were a quality mid-tone wood. He’d added a rug at the foot of the bed in the middle of the room. The color wasn’t a great choice on his part; she could make out stray black fur poking out of the light grey shag and her lips quirked in amusement.

 

His kitchen was functional, consisting of a refrigerator, single-bowl sink, and two-burner range. Both of which, she noticed, were occupied with pots that had clearly overflowed. In fact, now that she was taking in the details, it appeared Chat Noir had been in the middle of cooking prior to her arrival. Her eyes landed on a wine bottle perched near the sink and her heart sank.

 

Adrien set a glass of water in front of her and as he followed her gaze he scratched nervously at his neck. “Sorry about the mess.”

 

“I-- I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Marinette ruminated. “It looks like you were expecting company?”

 

His brows knit in confusion and she indicated the bottle. “Oh,” a blush spread across his cheeks and he shook his head. “No, I just,” he paused and the blush deepened. “Okay, don’t laugh, but I’ve never actually cooked before.”

 

“How is that--” she stopped that line of questioning. “Nevermind. So, you’re celebrating your first homemade dinner?”

 

He looked aside, but nodded.

 

An amused grin spread across Marinette’s face. “What’s on the menu?”

 

“Spaghetti.” Tossing a glance over his shoulder toward the failed experiment on the stove he groaned. “Or, that was the idea. Looks like pizza again. I have the number memorized at this point.”

 

Marinette hid a giggle behind her hand and Adrien grimaced. “Do you have any ingredients left? Maybe we can fix this.”

 

He returned to the kitchen, pulling a scrawled recipe off the backsplash before moving over to the fridge. “I have a lot of tomatoes,” he relayed, “half an eggplant, two boxes of spaghetti noodles, an onion and a lemon.”

 

“Lemon?”

 

Closing the fridge, he turned and handed her the recipe. She scanned it briefly, biting her lip. “Okay, lesson one. As Maman always says: when cooking, less is more. This,” she poked the recipe for effect, “is way too complicated.”

 

She pushed back in her chair and started to stand, but a wave of dizziness washed over her and she faltered. Adrien stepped toward her, holding out a hand which she waved off.

 

“You need to take it easy,” he admonished.

 

She wanted to dispute that, but the reality of the situation made it exceedingly difficult. Marinette lowered herself back into the chair in surrender. “Okay, you cook, I’ll direct.”

 

“Just like always,” he snarked and she feigned a glare in response.

 

Adrien set about clearing off the stove, dumping his first attempt into the overflowing trash before rinsing out the pots. Marinette volunteered her services as sous chef, cutting up the tomatoes and onion from her spot at the kitchen table.

 

Outside, the sun began to sink below the horizon. Adrien turned up the radio, switching from the classical station that had been playing to the pop music Ladybug had chosen at the arcade. She mindlessly hummed along to the occasional song and Adrien was struck with how at peace he felt. Was this what home was supposed to feel like?

 

Under his lady’s tutelage, Adrien’s second attempt at dinner was a success. Marinette called out to the kwamis, inviting them to join in the meal but the little creatures opted to stay snug in their birdhouse. Two hearty helpings of spaghetti plated, Adrien set one down before his guest. He started to sit before he remembered the wine bottle.

 

“With a concussion, you probably shouldn’t…”

 

He was right, of course. Still, they were proper French citizens and a lovely homemade dinner insisted upon a bottle of the country’s finest. “I’m feeling a lot better,” Marinette ventured. “A small glass shouldn’t hurt.”

 

He seemed conflicted, but an encouraging smile from Marinette lit a sparkle in his eyes. Her heart ached at the thought that such a small gesture had meant so much to him. Two glasses poured, he joined her at the table. 

 

“ _ Santé _ ,” they toasted.

 

The dinner was simple, but deliciously filling. As they ate, Marinette’s eyes fell on a thick book perched at the edge of the table.

 

“ _ A Quantum Conundrum? _ ”

 

Adrien lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Particle physics is a hobby of mine.”

 

The revelation wasn’t as surprising as it would have been a mere two weeks ago. Tongue loosened by her glass of wine, she laughed, “you are such an adorable nerd!”

 

He crossed his arms defensively, staring back at her. “And how many teenagers do you know who spend their free time knitting,  _ Grand-mére _ ?”

 

_ Touché, Chat. _

 

The atmosphere was companionable, but mention of their respective passions brought Marinette’s focus back to the elephant in the room. She folded her hands in her lap.

 

“Chat, there’s something we really need to discuss.”

 

Dread swept over him, but he set down his glass and turned his attention fully on her.

 

“We’re both finishing up  _ lyceé _ ,” she started, “and we’ve been dancing around the topic but I think it’s time we figure this out.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, trying to choose her words carefully. “I have opportunities in a few different schools this Fall. My dream school is in Florence, the second choice in England. With Kaalki, I could make it back to Paris easily enough but there’s only one of him, and I don’t know--”

 

“--what my plans are,” Adrien finished. He cleared his throat. “I was supposed to be in Florence, too. Which, in theory, would have worked out well. We could agree to meet somewhere and portal in together.”

 

“We could,” she acknowledged, her hopes lifting at the idea until she recalled his words. “Wait, you said ‘was’?”

 

He lowered his head. “Some things have come up, and I don’t think I’ll be going to Pol-- Florence after all.” He chuckled ruefully. “It’s just as well, I suppose. Florence was my father’s idea. I had actually applied to MIT in the States on a whim and got in.”

 

“You wanted to study physics,” Marinette discerned. “Is it too late to accept?”

 

“No,” he replied. “But I-- I can wait. There are some fairly decent schools right here in Paris. I could start here, and go to MIT later.”

 

He didn’t have to say it; Marinette could see the black cloud hanging over him, defeated. This was his dream; and he had already given up on it.

 

“Besides,” he went on, “despite the… issues… I’m having with my father, there is a family business at stake. A lot of people are counting on me to keep things running in the future.”

 

Marinette shook her head, leaning forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t abandon your dreams for other people like that. The business -- it isn’t your responsibility. We give up so much to protect Paris from Hawk Moth. You  _ deserve  _ something that’s just for you.”

 

He didn’t respond, and she retracted her hand to sit back in her seat. There was a hippo standing proudly beside the elephant in the room.  _ Might as well address that topic, too _ .  “Chat, I want to apologize again for the other day. It was thoughtless to turn things around on you so suddenly. I can understand why you’ve been upset with me.”

 

He looked up then, alarm in his expression. “I wasn’t upset with you, LB.” He took a deep breath, then leaned forward, gently taking her hand in his. “I was confused,” he admitted, “and it sort of came out of the blue -- I wasn’t sure if you meant it.”

 

“I did,” she assured him, a flush working its way up her neck.

 

The tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders ebbed slightly. “What changed your mind?”

 

She remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “A lot of things,” she finally spoke. “I had some very silly ideas about what it meant to love someone. It took a very embarrassing discussion with a friend to realize that I’d been clinging to a crush in order to avoid the very real feelings I was having for one of my closest friends.”

 

Adrien knew he shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t help himself. “You going to tell me who the mystery boy was?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, then a devious smile spread across her lips. “Just an overrated teen supermodel.”

 

“Over--” he scowled, leaning back.

 

She giggled, patting him on the cheek. “But also very kind,” she appeased him, “and intelligent, and just an overall wonderful person.”

 

“Should I be jealous?”

 

His voice had deepened, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. The teasing smile on her face softened. “Not one bit. It seems the two of you have a lot in common.”

 

He swallowed hard, and his eyes flicked down to her mouth for a moment, but he remained hesitant. “Can I--”

 

She quickly closed the distance between them, and it took a moment for the kiss to register before Adrien returned it, his eyes drifting closed. Her lips were soft and warm against his; the sweet scent of her hair and the tickling puff of her breath wove into his senses overwhelming him with the feeling that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

 

“Gross.”

 

The pair split apart, matching flushes on their cheeks.

 

“Plagg!” Tikki floated up behind him, tugging him backwards. “You’re so rude!”

 

“What? I’m hungry!”

 

Adrien pushed back from the table, strode over to the fridge where he extracted three entire wheels of cheese. He marched them over to the window, dropping them unceremoniously on the sill. “There.”

 

Unphased by his holder’s demeanor, Plagg zipped over to his new stash and began moving it closer to the birdhouse. Tikki shook her head, but didn’t follow. “Since we’ve already interrupted,” she glanced toward the clock at the bedside, “it’s getting late.”

 

Marinette exchanged an uncertain look with Chat. It wasn’t a school night, but Tikki had a point.

 

“You can stay,” he offered, eyes widening as he realized what he was implying. “I mean,” he backpedaled, “I have an extra blanket. You can take the bed and I’ll be just fine on the rug…”

 

The temptation to take him up on his offer was overwhelming, but the Ladybug in her fortified her better judgment. She stood from her chair, shaking her head. “Tikki’s right.”

 

“Are you going to be okay?”

 

Marinette smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair fondly. “I think I’m over the worst of it.”

 

“I’ll take good care of her,” Tikki assured him.

 

Adrien emptied his shopping bag of its remaining contents, handing it to Marinette for her other clothes.

 

“I’ll wash your things and give them back on Sunday,” she promised.

 

An awkwardness settled between them, neither knowing what to say. Marinette walked up to him slowly, pecking him on the cheek.

 

“Tikki… spots on.”

 

Clambering out of the window she waved to Plagg, who was busily stuffing his maw with camembert. She prepared to leap but at the last second, turned back to the window where Adrien was waiting to see her off. Resting a warm hand on his chest, in a moment of daring she  threaded the fingers of her other hand through his hair as she pressed another, heated kiss on his lips.

 

He leaned into her, tilting his head a bit to get closer and his stomach flipped when she parted her lips slightly to nip at him. She pulled back, leaving him breathless. “We’ll do this again soon,” she promised, and before he could think to pull her back she leapt into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry (early) Christmas, shippers!
> 
> (There may be another "gift" chapter in the near future, depending on my availability.)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I going to finish this in only a few chapters?  
> Good question. Answer: I'm going to cheat, and write longer chapters!
> 
> So just to clarify a few points, since I'm not a professional author and my work clearly doesn't succeed in speaking for itself:
> 
> 1\. Adrien is all but 100% certain Marinette is Ladybug.  
> 2\. Marinette suspects Adrien knows she's Ladybug.  
> 3\. Marinette is all but 100% certain Adrien is Chat.  
> 4\. Adrien suspects Marinette knows he's Chat.  
> 5\. That last tiny bit of uncertainty isn't really bothering them.
> 
> So technically, the fact that they're not 100% certain really shouldn't be an issue, except that they can't be open about their feelings in public, and Adrien -- having spent his entire life playing a role -- chafes at the idea of having to continue doing so for the foreseeable future.
> 
> For now, they are respecting the rules. Sort of. Tikki has something to say about that in this chapter.

Hunched under the threshold to their school, Nino and Marinette watched the rain splatter on the sidewalk as they awaited a break in the downpour. Sunday morning’s drizzle had turned into a proper storm and by the end of school Monday, the citizens of Paris were wondering if they needed to build an ark.

 

“I’m worried about him.”

 

Marinette turned a questioning gaze toward her friend, flinching when a fat raindrop splashed on her forehead.

 

“Adrien hasn’t been picked up by his bodyguard in at least two weeks,” Nino went on. “You know he’s stopped Chinese lessons, but he’s no longer fencing either.” He sighed. “Marinette, Adrien’s a championship fencer. He loves the sport.”

 

All of which she knew, but Nino’s point was clear.

 

“I noticed it, too,” she admitted. “I was hoping he talked to you about it.”

 

Nino shook his head, and seemed to wage an internal battle within himself for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I know you care about him and, well, maybe someone else needs to know.”

 

Marinette tugged him off to the side of the entryway, further from the prying ears of their schoolmates.

 

Nino’s voice lowered to just above a whisper. “Adrien’s been seeing a therapist, too. I don’t want to go into what he’s told me specifically, but let’s just say that we’re not the only ones who think his dad’s a jerk.” He sighed, shrugging his backpack up from where it slid down his shoulder. “I know it’s a longshot but do you think, maybe, he’d talk to you?”

 

_ Probably not _ , Marinette mused sadly. Still, she had a bit of a reputation as the class helper. If there was any chance he’d be willing to open up to her, it was worth a try. She turned a reassuring smile on her friend. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Nino’s returning smile was grateful, and he clapped her on the back congenially. “Thanks, Mari.”

 

The rain let up a bit, and Nino bid her farewell before dashing toward the metro. Her own schedule was fairly empty for the afternoon. On a hunch, she backtracked toward the courtyard and made her way up the stairs to the library.

 

Several students had taken up tables in the atrium, desperately cramming for next week’s final exams. Scanning the room, Marinette couldn’t find the blonde mop of hair she was seeking and made her way past the stacks toward a more secluded section in the back.

 

***

 

The distant hum of his peers wrapped around Adrien like a blanket in his solitude. He’d ostensibly come here to focus on his studies, away from the distractions of home. In truth, he was hiding. Even Plagg couldn’t make up for the gaping void Ladybug had left behind, as though her presence had been a bright flame that, now extinguished, left the apartment in cold darkness.

 

He’d spent the entirety of Saturday and Sunday eagerly awaiting patrol until the first clap of lightning echoed through the streets, dashing his hopes. Ladybug would never openly admit it, but she was terrified of lightning and Chat Noir would move heaven and earth to spare her. Patrol summarily cancelled, Adrien resigned himself to a lonely, brooding night.

 

“Hey.”

 

A shadow fell over his notebook and Adrien sat up abruptly. He hadn’t even heard her approach.

 

“I just happened to be walking by and thought I’d say hi,” Marinette lied. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

 

“No,” he flipped his history book closed with a rueful laugh. “I think my brain stopped working around twenty minutes ago.”

 

She took a seat, trying desperately to look more casual than she felt. “I don’t suppose Gabriel takes on interns straight out of lycee?”

 

“Not sure, I’d have to ask.” He studied her for a moment, confused at the seemingly random question when a terrifying thought struck. Marinette, in the moth’s den -- completely unaware of the danger surrounding her. He couldn’t allow that to happen, and yet... 

 

“You know, I wouldn’t bother applying at Gabriel. You could do so much better. In spite of all the publicity he gets, my father isn’t what people think he is.” Suddenly it was as if a dam broke, and as Adrien closed his eyes she could feel the frustration and remorse spilling from within him. 

 

“He’s done some terrible things, Marinette -- things I’m ashamed to admit. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. We weren’t close, even when Maman was still with us. After she left I tried even harder, because we only had each other.” His voice grew distant as if he’d forgotten she was there. “I need to fix what he’s done, but I’m too much of a coward to face it. Gabriel isn’t someone you should admire, Marinette. Frankly, neither am I.”

 

His open distress washed over her and she didn’t hesitate in slipping to the other side of the table and throwing her arms around him. He seemed momentarily shocked, but settled into the embrace.

 

“I don’t buy that for a second,” Marinette declared. Adrien stiffened in her arms, but she shook her head against his shoulder. “Adrien and Marinette haven’t been close, but I think I know you well enough to say that you’re a good person. We all lose our way sometimes; that’s okay. The important thing is that you find your way back. You aren’t your father, and you’re not responsible for your father’s actions.”

 

A faint beam of sunlight broke through the gloom outside, splaying across the library’s fraying carpet. Wrapped up in Marinette’s embrace, Adrien similarly feel the clouds within dissolving as a burgeoning ray of clarity broke through. Suddenly conscious of the silence between them, he remembered her original question.

 

“Why were you asking internships, anyway?”

 

Marinette was caught off guard by the question, and her reticence prompted Adrien to pull back.

 

She looked down toward her lap, a fond smile on her face. “I’m going to reapply to ESMOD and see if I can get in for the Spring semester.”

 

“What about Polimoda? You were so excited when you got the acceptance letter!”

 

She shrugged. “A good friend of mine needs me to be here right now.” 

 

Adrien’s felt his stomach churn. “Marinette, no!” Her brow raised at the outburst and he caught himself. “I don’t know what’s going on with your friend, but he wouldn’t want you to give up your future!”

 

“I’m not giving up anything. One way or another, I’ll be a fashion designer.” Her smile turned tender and she met his gaze with a determined glimmer in her eyes. “When you love someone, sacrifice… actually feels pretty good.”

 

It took every ounce of restraint Adrien had to stop himself from kissing her right then and there for if he did, he knew he’d never let her go. She was too wonderful in all the ways that mattered, and a lump started to grow in his throat as he fought to keep frustrated, guilty tears at bay.

 

Marinette seemed to sense his struggle and stood to give him some privacy. Pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, she turned and made her way toward the stacks.

 

“Marinette!” Adrien’s heart hammered in his chest; he had to tell her, before he could second guess himself. “Thank you. For the blue scarf. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

 

She startled, lifting a hand to her lips in surprise. The contented smile returned to her eyes and she nodded her acknowledgement before giving him a little wave and turning back again.

 

As she rounded the corner, Adrien took a deep breath. “Plagg, I need to make a call.”

 

***

 

Ladybug’s heart fluttered in her chest when she caught sight of her partner in the distance. His call had been brief, and unable to decipher his mood she found herself hoping this was a social visit. That hope faded as he neared and landed before her, his posture stiff and expression grave.

 

“Chat?”

 

Without preamble, he strode to stand before her. “You were right.” The words burned in his throat but he managed to spit them out. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawk Moth.”

 

Ladybug gaped, struggling for a reply, and a few tense moments passed before she managed to stutter the inevitable question. “How do you know?”

 

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” he queried sardonically.

 

Still reeling, she turned away and started pacing the rooftop. After a few back and forth rounds, she stopped in front of him once more. “You’re sure?”

 

“Saw the white butterflies with my own eyes.”

 

She inhaled sharply, then let out the breath slowly. “Tell me… what you can.”

 

***

 

Ladybug tapped on the window to announce her presence before dropping inside. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologized, setting her grocery bag on Chat’s kitchen table. “Kaalki and I took a little side trip to Tibet.”

 

She wasn’t smiling, which Adrien supposed meant the news was discouraging. He handed her a costume mask and turned away as she took a moment to detransform.

 

“You look ridiculous in that fedora.”

 

“On the contrary,” he sauntered away from her, taking a sharp turn before returning, “I think I look marvelous.”

 

Marinette rolled her eyes and turned back to the kitchen table, extracting some produce and a fresh, crispy baguette from within.

 

“I see you also stopped at my favorite bakery,” Adrien noted. He reached out to rip off a chunk, only to have his hand slapped away.

 

“Ratatouille first.”

 

Duly chastened, Adrien joined her in the kitchen and the pair set about making their simple dinner. While there was much to discuss, proper strategic planning would go better after a hearty meal. In short order the stew was ready and they sat together at the table with their respective kwamis.

 

“So… Tibet?”

 

Marinette swallowed, and dabbed at her mouth before folding her napkin in her lap. “Yeah, I brought the situation to the guardians.” She’d been dreading this, but now wasn’t the time for stalling. “The kwamis confirmed that Dusuu was damaged. If we assume that Madame Agreste became sick using the peacock miraculous, then coma would be the final stage before…”

 

“...death,” he finished quietly.

 

“And since this isn’t a medical condition, there is no way to reverse the damage, except-- well, you know.” Her voice trailed off, and tears of empathy gathered in her eyes.

 

“Emilie Agreste disappeared over two years ago,” Adrien murmured. “Most people would have moved on by now, but Fa-- Gabriel has been holding on to hope this entire time. He’s refusing to deal with the grief.”

 

Tikki toyed with the small portion of dinner on her saucer, a sour expression on her face.

 

“I can get you some cookies,” Marinette offered.

 

Plagg snorted, “that’s not what she’s pouting about.”

 

“Tikki?”

 

The red kwami floated up, her tiny limbs folded in front of her. “You know the rules,” she lectured. “Your identities are supposed to be a secret!”

 

Marinette and Adrien exchanged a glance. “They are,” Marinette offered sheepishly.

 

Tikki huffed, turning away. “Skirting the rules is just as bad as breaking them. Having suspicions is one thing -- and all the more reason to keep a safe distance. This is the exact opposite of distance!”

 

“Sugarcube, you’ve gotta learn to relax. Ladybug is a guardian herself. No one’s going to take her miraculous away.”

 

Glaring, Tikki poked Plagg in the chest. “You’re not helping!”

 

“Whatever,” Plagg drawled. “It’s hardly worth getting in a snit, when Hawk Moth’s known about Chat for three weeks alrea--”

 

Adrien winced.

 

“--oops.”

 

Marinette’s eyes widened and then quickly narrowed. Her voice took on a dangerous edge. “Three weeks?” She stood up, clenching her fists at her sides. Tikki’s expression mirrored Marinette’s, the kwami’s glare focused on her feline counterpart.

 

“Around the time you moved,” Marinette calculated, and as the revelation worked its way through her mind the other bit of news connected. “He knows your identity?!”

 

Adrien sighed. In the stillness of the studio it was enough for Marinette to discern his answer.

 

“I won’t try to explain,” he started, “because it doesn’t really matter does it? I let you down.”

 

Her disappointment raged inside, a mixture of betrayal and incredulity fighting for dominance. She turned away, fighting back angry tears. “You didn’t trust me,” she bit out. “Something like this -- you took it all on yourself because after all these years you don’t trust me.”

 

Her words stunned him, and Adrien quickly shook his head. “No! It’s not like that at all!”

 

“Then what is it like?”

 

“I should have been able to stop him,” he cried, rising from his seat.

 

“That’s not your responsibility,” she fired back.

 

Thrusting his right hand into her peripheral vision, his silver ring glimmered in the dim light. “Isn’t it?”

 

“Not alone!”

 

Marinette was ready to leave, her piqued emotions becoming too much to handle. Yet the tables had turned and Adrien’s poor judgment aside, they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

 

“I’m sorry.” He slumped back into his seat, head bowed in shame. 

 

Even in her anger, Marinette felt an infuriating tug of sympathy. She took a few calming breaths and the minutes that passed may as well have been years. “We have to bring the fight to him,” she muttered at last, back still turned.

 

“That’s too dangerous,” Adrien countered.

 

“Well, you’ve had  _ three weeks _ ,” she retorted. “What’s your bright idea?”

 

Adrien flinched.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“I’d like to try,” he ventured quietly, “one last time, to talk some sense into him.”

 

Marinette ignored the implied request. Her expression grew contemplative and she bit her lip as she turned toward Tikki. “What exactly happens when your powers are combined?”

 

Alarmed, Tikki fluttered about her face. “That’s not--”

 

“Hypothetically,” Marinette clarified.

 

“You can’t change the laws of the universe,” the kwami declared. “For every action, there is a reaction to maintain balance.”

 

“What about Fluff?” Adrien ventured.

 

Plagg floated to a spot between the humans. “Timelines are a different thing. Everything that can happen does happen in some universe. Changing the past brings a timeline in alignment with the appropriate universe.”

 

“The multiverse theory.”

 

Ladybug frowned but Tikki nodded. “The powers of creation and destruction combined interfere with the very laws of physics in a given universe. It’s a bit like pulling a bucket of water out of a lake. Even if it’s a tiny amount, the water level across the entire lake drops.”

 

“And there’s no way to mitigate that effect?”

 

Plagg shook his head. “The universe is too complex, kid.”

 

“And if we went into the past?”

 

Tikki tapped her chin in thought. “Depending on how far back you have to go? The universe will be fine, but Adrien might not be.”

 

Marinette frowned. “Meaning…?”

 

“Meaning, Adrien might not  _ be _ ,” Plagg emphasized.

 

Still annoyed with her partner, a petulant part of Marinette briefly considered that outcome the lesser of two evils, but she immediately quashed the thought in remorse. Turning back toward Chat, she started to weigh their options. “Did he mention how you were supposed to help?”

 

“No, I didn’t stay long enough to ask.”

 

“All right,” she relented. “We need to find out what he had in mind before we can come up with a plan that has any chance of succeeding. If you want to try to talk him out of it, fine. But no more secrets! Promise me: no matter what, you won’t keep me in the dark again.”

 

In true Chat fashion he dropped to his knees, hand on his heart in supplication. Marinette groaned, but accepted the gesture. They decided on an earlier patrol for Thursday, giving him time to meet with Gabriel and investigate the situation in the interim.

 

Ladybug departed without fanfare, leaving Adrien brooding in her wake. He cleaned up the kitchen in silence, readied himself for bed and finally flopped down onto his mattress in the darkness.

 

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

 

Plagg yawned, kneading the pillow with his paws. “Please. The bugs love us.”

 

Adrien prayed he was right.

 

***

 

Gabriel Agreste pushed open the door to his study late Wednesday night. His bed called to him after the long trans-Atlantic flight but first, he would visit Emilie. Not bothering with the lights, he made his way to the golden portrait.

 

“Welcome home.”

He turned at the derisive voice, barely making out a familiar form backlit in the moonlight streaming through the window. He reached toward his desk, flipping on his lamp. His eyes widened imperceptibly in surprise. “Indeed.”

 

The door to the study opened once more, and Nathalie swept inside. “Gabriel, you’ve made it--”

 

He held up a hand to silence her, and as she followed his gaze she stifled a gasp.

 

“We’ll speak later, Nathalie,” Gabriel directed, dismissing her.

 

She frowned, glancing between the two men before reluctantly backing out of the room.

 

Once the door had closed, Gabriel began his cautious trek across the room. That Adrien was here as himself had to be a good sign. “You’re looking well, son,” he ventured.

 

“You can’t make the wish.”

 

_ Straight to business, then. _ Gabriel couldn’t help but take a measure of pride in his son’s direct approach. Mildly amused, he sauntered over to the club chair nearest the window and gave Adrien his full attention.

 

“You’ve read the tale of the Monkey’s Paw,” Adrien ventured.

 

“Many years ago. Your point?”

 

Adrien clenched his jaw. His father loved these stupid power plays and manipulations. “What you want to do -- you have no way of knowing what the result will be.”

 

“One life -- though of great significance to myself and to you -- is of little consequence to the universe,” Gabriel asserted.

 

“The fission of a single atom can set off a nuclear disaster,” Adrien argued.

 

“And yet we still build nuclear power plants.” The long days away had drained him of energy, and Gabriel hadn’t the patience to continue their banter. He narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers as he regarded his son. “I will not be dissuaded. Now, are you here to help, or shall I have Nathalie escort you from the premises?”

 

“I won’t allow you to hurt Ladybug.”

 

“Is that your answer?”

 

“Promise me you won’t hurt Ladybug -- or the girl behind the mask -- and I’ll help you.”

 

Gabriel chuckled quietly. “You are your father’s son, Adrien. Very well. I will not actively harm your Ladybug; but I will not go out of my way to keep her from harm, either. That is a fair compromise, is it not?”

 

It was as good as he’d get, Adrien surmised. He took Gabriel’s outstretched hand in a stiff shake. Gabriel clasped his in return, turning it slightly with a furrowed brow.

 

“Where is the ring?”

 

Adrien pulled back, dropping his arm to his side. “Safe.”

 

“When the time comes, you will relinquish the miraculous to me.” Gabriel smiled then, his shoulders relaxing. “It’s good to have you home, son.”

 

Backing away, Adrien shook his head. “I agreed to help my father,” he reiterated, “but I have a new home now. Nooroo has Plagg’s number -- call when you’re ready.” He didn’t wait for a reply, turning away and slipping out of the room, leaving the mansion behind him.

 

***

 

“Tikki, Trixx divide!”

 

Ladybug stretched her arms above her head, tilting her head back to relish in the dappling rays of sunlight on her face. The days were warmer now, even in the shade of the forest where she and Chat had travelled to undertake intensive training.

 

The trip had required a good bit of planning. Marinette feigned a toothache in order to skip school and she and Chat had arranged to take separate public transportation so as not to be seen together. The primary objective of their training session necessitated that Ladybug bring the entire miracle box, which she managed by stuffing the item in a sturdy thrift-store backpack.

 

With four hours to go until nightfall, the pair had made steady progress. Ladybug had already mastered multi-wielding, but Chat was becoming reasonably adept as well. He’d managed to activate four at once for a five minute period before collapsing, at which point Ladybug called a break and treated the kwamis to a picnic lunch.

 

Chat’s second meeting with Hawk Moth had given Ladybug a basic framework in which to orchestrate their plan. They needed to be prepared for contingencies; if Chat’s status as a double-agent was revealed there would be no second chance. They had opted for the simple, direct route -- Chat’s specialty -- with a more complicated nuclear option in reserve. They could only hope it was enough.

 

Landing a few feet away from Ladybug, Chat hunched over.

 

“Tired?”

 

He straightened again, forcing his breath to even out. “Nope!”

 

Ladybug hummed, a sassy glint in her eyes. “It’s okay, Chaton. We can take a break.”

 

His pride wounded, Chat threw back his shoulders. “I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I could go all night.”

 

“Really?” She bit back a laugh. “And yet I’m sure you couldn’t catch me.” 

 

Before he could react, she leapt into the nearest tree, a coy smile on her face. Chat, refusing to be bested, gathered up what was left of his endurance and took off after her. Stretching his limbs to their limit, he made up what distance he could, eventually getting within a few yards of his prey. Her laughter echoed in the forest, scattering birds and squirrels in her wake. Despite his best efforts, Chat was dismayed to find that he couldn’t close the gap between them.

 

“Shell-ter!”

 

A green dome appeared in front of Ladybug and she skidded to a halt. Chat landed behind her, a self-satisfied grin splitting his cheeks. The dome extended just beyond the nearest tree and soon Ladybug found herself backed up against it.

 

“You were saying?”

 

“You didn’t catch me, you trapped me.”

 

“Tomato, tomahto,” he shrugged, continuing his forward prowl.

 

Ladybug’s breath caught, a flush working its way down her torso as he came close enough to feel the heat of exertion between them.

 

“I- I’m still mad at you,” she pouted, averting her gaze.

 

The quirk of her lips betrayed her. Chat chuckled. “Is that so?” His hand lifted to her face, gently turning her back toward him and dipping his head down to capture her lips against his.

 

She held back for all of two seconds before a whimper escaped her. Emboldened, he slipped one hand back to cradle her head while the other rested on her hip, pulling her closer. Her arms encircled him, hands splayed against his back. The heady sensation of their kiss nonetheless left each wanting as fingers roved over the artificial armor of their suits.

 

A final chirp sounded and Wayzz flew out of the bracelet, joining his fellow kwamis. Mullo squeaked a cheer and Xuppu whooped his approval.

 

Breaking apart for breath, Chat rested his forehead on the tree and squeezed Ladybug tightly against him.

 

Ladybug nuzzled into him, a keen longing aching in her heart. “When this is over, maybe -- maybe we can get rid of the masks.”

 

Chat’s heart skipped a beat and his voice was rough with emotion. “I would love nothing more, M’lady.”

 

She tipped her head back, smiling up at him adorably before rising to her tiptoes. Eagerly awaiting her, he leaned down once again only to be interrupted by the rude alert of his baton.

 

(No, not that baton.)

 

As one they sighed and, splitting apart, exchanged a nervous glance between them. Chat stepped away, grimacing at the caller id. He’d been expecting the call, but Hawk Moth’s timing left much to be desired.

 

Chat answered, confirming the details in an artificially hushed tone before quickly ending the call. His gaze met Ladybug’s, their expressions equally grave.

 

“Sunday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter may take a bit to come out. I had it outlined in detail but now that we're here, the plot feels too weak. So, I'm going to try to beef up the action a bit and if I can't, the old outline is my fallback plan. If it's not out by Christmas, I may offer up an outline of the denouement as a gift. Feel free to weigh in on that option.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not quite 100%, but I'm a perfectionist and if I wait for perfect then I'll never get anything else done. :-)
> 
> There are quite a few transformations in this chapter and I don't think I adequately conveyed who is wearing what at all times. So just to be clear: Adrien is never out of some form of transformation and Marinette is only de-transformed when a) alone or b) Chat has his back turned.
> 
> My inspiration music for this chapter should be familiar to fans of Lucifer (also on Netflix!):   
> In the Air Tonight, cover by Nathalie Taylor - https://youtu.be/lgWSS7J6EMA

Vixen stepped cautiously into the abandoned mill, trying to keep her footsteps soft. He’d said nine o’clock, and she was sure this was the place but the eerie silence had her second guessing herself. She stuck close to the perimeter, feeling the crumble of decay along her fingers as she trailed them along the walls by the staircase leading up to the second level.

 

A wooden delivery crate, grey with age and reeking of mildew provided the cover she needed. If everything followed their plan, she’d have little to do but provide backup at the key moment. Of course things rarely went as expected so she was ready, carrying enough accessories to make the Queen of England jealous.

 

Remaining crouched beside the crate she closed her eyes and strained to hear the footsteps echoing along the main floor.

 

“Chat?” a voice called from below. Vixen cringed at the sound, distorted from the familiar by her change in perspective.

 

“Hurry, over here!” Chat returned frantically from a point deeper within the mill.

 

Being unable to watch them left Vixen unnerved but it was a necessary evil. If Hawk Moth saw her, their ruse would be blown. She’d done a quick sweep of the building before entering, and witnessed Hawk Moth slipping in from the back. Chat’s call for rescue came in moments later. It was only a matter of time before he’d lure Hawk Moth into his false victory and then she would be at her partner’s side once again.

 

Something tickled at her wrist where it rested on the floor and she shook it off. The sensation returned, insistent, and when she looked down she had but a moment in which to gasp before she was quickly enveloped in a tight, scaly embrace.

 

“Interesting,” a woman purred from the darkness. “You’re not Volpina, and I’m fairly sure you’re not Rena Rouge, either.” 

 

_ Merde _ .

  
  


***

 

Chat Noir tugged slightly at his bindings, grimacing where they chafed at his wrists. His father did have a flair for the dramatic, but surely props would have sufficed. At Ladybug’s familiar call, he stifled a relieved sigh -- deliverance was at hand!

 

“Hurry, over here!” he called out in mock urgency.

 

Ladybug rounded the corner, making eye contact so devoid of emotion that Chat felt sick. He jerked his head toward himself, mindful of Hawk Moth’s hidden scrutiny.

 

“He’ll be back any minute. I can’t make contact with the chains.”

 

“This looks like a trap,” she muttered.

 

“What? No!” Chat blinked, impressed with his lady’s attention to detail.

 

She sighed, and stepped forward.

 

“Your partner is quite perceptive, Chat Noir.” Hawk Moth meandered from the shadows, a sly grin on his face. “Good evening, Ladybug. I do apologize for the deception, but we did very much want you to join us.”

 

Ladybug stopped, her focus switching between her partner and her nemesis. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Or perhaps you don’t want to? Understandable, of course -- betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow.” Hawk Moth nodded toward Chat, who quickly slipped the shackles from his limbs and crossed the floor to stand beside him. “Fortunately for you, your  _ former  _ partner has struck a deal ensuring your safety. All you need to do is hand over your miraculous.”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

Hawk Moth laughed. “Because, my dear, the game is over. Chat Noir -- and his miraculous -- are in my possession now. It’s only a matter of time before you are defeated. Hand over the earrings now, and this will all be over.” His expression mocked sympathy. “Look on the bright side -- this is one less thing to worry about as you go on to university. I believe you are on the cusp of graduating, yes?”

 

Chat took a moment to survey the room before subtly gripping the concealed bracelet on his wrist. He’d have to be quick with his words and prepared for attack. “Wayzz--”

 

“Hawk Moth!”

 

From the shadows a fan boomeranged toward Ladybug, slicing neatly through her midsection. The illusion dissolved, evaporating in a fog of pink and leaving Hawk Moth speechless.

 

Mayura stepped into the light, capturing the fan as it returned. “I told you he wasn’t to be trusted.”

 

Chat took a step back and dread seeped into his veins like poison. “Wh- what are you talking about? I thought you were staying at the sanctuary?”

 

“And had I done so,” she scoffed, “you would have completed your deception.” She flicked her wrist, beckoning forth a large, winged serpent. Its lengthy tail wrapped tightly around Vixen, whose steely gaze held a hint of fear. “Look who I found slinking around.”

 

Vixen struggled to free her mouth from behind a scaly coil. “How could you, Chat?”

 

His fleeting confusion was erased by a meaningful gaze passed between them and he bit back a laugh. Ladybug had always been a master of improvisation. He forced out a caustic chuckle. “What can I say,  _ Bugaboo _ ? You can only reject a man so many times before he moves on to other goals.”

 

Message sent and received, Vixen glared at him. “I thought we were friends, Chat. You’d endanger all of Paris because I didn’t fall in love with you?”

 

“ _ C’est la vie _ ,” he hummed.

 

“Enough!” Hawk Moth stepped closer to Vixen, inspecting her closely. “Are you telling me this is Ladybug?”

 

Chat strode over, reaching out to grip an earlobe. The glamour surrounding it shimmered to reveal a drab, blackened earring. Eyes widening in recognition, Hawk Moth began to smile like a child on Christmas morning. He cast a self-righteous grin to his assistant. “You were saying?”

 

Mayura met his gaze but held her tongue.

 

“In fact,” Hawk Moth went on, “if you need further proof, I’m sure Chat Noir would be happy to remove the earrings on our behalf.”

 

A knot forming in his stomach, Chat nodded. He desperately wanted to offer his partner some words of assurance, but the pair at his back were too close. Vixen held still as he set about removing the backing from the earring under his fingers. He prayed that he’d read her intentions correctly. After the first earring released, he managed a tender brush at her temple before moving on to the second one. She put up a half-hearted struggle, pulling her head away. 

 

Chat glanced back at Hawk Moth, grimacing. “This may take a moment,” he warned.

 

Impatient, Mayura swept in beside him and shouldered him aside. “You’re stalling,” she huffed as she pinched the other ear and pulled the stud straight through.

 

Vixen choked back a whimper and pained tears gathered at the corners of her bluebell eyes. A white, hot anger raced across Chat’s expression as he rounded on Mayura. “Was that really necessary?” He turned further to address Hawk Moth. “You promised she wouldn’t be harmed.”

 

Hawk Moth spread his hands in a careless gesture. “I said that I would not harm her. Mayura made no such promise. Though,” he leveled a meaningful look at his assistant, “she had agreed to stay behind.”

 

Gritting his teeth, Chat tamped down his fury and returned to Hawk Moth’s side. The latter opened his hand in expectation. Vixen’s expression grew horrified as Chat dropped the earring in his palm. Mayura added the second before Hawk Moth snapped his fist tightly around the pair.

 

“You see?” he patronized, “human nature always wins out. As they say, blood is thicker than water.”

 

Vixen resumed her struggle with increased vigour.

 

“You’re being manipulated,” Mayura maintained, arms crossing as she watched the scene play out before her.

 

Chat’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “You ripped the earring out of her ear and I haven’t shredded you,” he growled, flexing his claws. “What more do you want?”

 

Undeterred, Mayura shrugged. “You still have the ring.”

 

Scowling, Chat nonetheless raised his hand. “Wayzz, shell on.” Yanked from his hiding spot, the green kwami was pulled into the bracelet on Chat’s right wrist. One transformation complete, he then released the other and slid the ring from his fingers. “Call me Terrapin,” he drawled.

 

“No!” Vixen cried out helplessly.

 

Hawk Moth accepted the ring, eyes growing wide in anticipation. He threaded it over his right index finger and took a deep breath as Plagg materialized in the air before him, expression sour. Catching sight of Terrapin the kwami hissed.

 

“Do you think I’m a fool?” Hawk Moth asked Mayura with a frown.

 

She lowered her gaze in apology. “No, sir.”

 

Mollified, he opened his left hand, revealing the ladybug miraculous. His face lit up once more in satisfaction as he lifted one up for inspection. “I’ve never personally been a fan of earrings on gentlemen,” he reflected. “But I do believe these will work nicely as cufflinks.” He twisted the backing off of first one, then the other earring before slipping each into the button holes at the end of his shirt cuffs. He tugged experimentally at each arm when a wave of nausea overcame him and he pitched forward.

 

Terrapin caught him, and Mayura crouched down to steady him on the other side.

 

“You’ve never dual-wielded before, have you?” Terrapin asked.

 

Mayura frowned and Hawk Moth shook his head in silent reply.

 

“The original guardian warned us against using more than one miraculous at a time. It can be overwhelming to the wearer, even dangerous. Right now you’ve got three.” He seemed to pause in thought for a moment. “Take them off for now, and let’s go back. I’ll hold onto Nooroo and after you’ve had a little time to rest, you can put them on and try again.”

 

“You’re stalling,” Mayura alleged.

 

Terrapin felt his irritation rising once more and he studied Mayura with a suspicious eye. “Why are you trying to put a wedge between us?” He didn’t wait for a reply, leaning closer to Hawk Moth. “I’m your son,” he asserted in a hushed tone, “and I’ve done everything you asked. If you want this to succeed, you’ll need your strength.”

 

Hawk Moth nodded at last, slipping the ring from his fingers.

 

“What should we do with the girl?” Mayura asked as she slowly made her way back to the sentimonster.

 

Turning to regard his former partner, Terrapin steeled his heart against the sight of her. “She didn’t ask to be Ladybug. For all the trouble she and I have caused you, we were just kids doing what we thought was right.” He swallowed and turned away once again. “We have what we need. Leave her with the fox miraculous so she can get home safely. I owe her at least that much.”

 

“Very well,” Hawk Moth conceded, quelling Mayura’s impending contradiction with a look.

 

She relented, and with a wave of her hand the sentimonster released Vixen to crumple to the ground in a heap. The serpent stretched itself and unfolded its wings before allowing the trio of humans to climb upon its back. It rose into the air and slipped through a broken skylight in the ceiling, leaving the mill in desolate silence.

 

_ Chat has a career in acting if ever he wants it _ , Vixen mused fondly.

 

“Trixx, let’s rest.”

 

The fox kwami flew out of the necklace and immediately nuzzled up to Marinette’s cheek. “That’s not what was supposed to happen!”

  
“No, it’s not,” Marinette agreed, rubbing carefully at her aching earlobe. “But, we’re not done yet.” She pulled a stick of jerky from her pocket and handed it to the kwami. “I’ve managed difficult situations before. Let’s just hope our luck holds without Tikki.”

 

Standing to stretch, Marinette reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of glasses. “Ready Kaalki?”

 

“Our victory will be glorious!” the horse kwami neighed.

 

“If we portal into the same room, will you be able to locate Nooroo?”

 

Kaalki nodded. “I think so.”

 

She slipped on the glasses, wincing as the temple brushed against her battered ear. 

 

Trixx polished off the last of her jerky. “Tikki and Plagg always tell us that you’re the best Ladybug they’ve ever worked with. I know you’ll succeed.” With a smile and an affectionate pat, the fox kwami zipped back into Marinette’s purse.

 

Entirely unsure of herself, Marinette took a deep breath. “Kaalki, full gallop!”

 

***

 

The dim moonlight streaming through the rose window cast a pall on the platform where Emilie Agreste lay in stasis.

 

“Just a few more minutes,” Gabriel breathed, eyes closed in meditation.

 

“There’s really no rush,” Terrapin pointed out.

 

Mayura raised a brow. “No reason to wait, either,” she countered. “Or is there?”

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” Terrapin growled. “I gave up a lot to do this, because I love my mother. Once this is over, we’ll be a family again and where will that leave you? What are you even doing here?”

 

“Enough, Adrien!” Gabriel scolded.

 

Nathalie narrowed her eyes and turned to face Terrapin full-on. “Don’t be so naive,” she bit out. “I loved Emilie, too.”

 

_ Oh. Well, that explains a few things _ , he considered. Huffing, he turned away and took a moment to scan the surroundings. The distant sound of a stone bouncing off the wall drew his attention. Carefully, so as not to draw attention, he turned his gaze up and to the right where he could barely make out a small brown blur poking its head out from the upper rafters.

 

“Where is the brooch?”

 

Terrapin looked back to Gabriel. “I put it in your safe,” he lied.

 

“Shall I get it?” Nathalie started toward the gangway and Chat sucked in a breath.

 

“No,” Gabriel replied. “Nooroo’s safe enough there.” He made to stand, his energy renewed.

  
Grasping for time, Terrapin cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask; is there a particular reason that window faces  _ North _ ?”

 

Gabriel frowned. “That’s how it’s always been. Why do you ask?”

 

Terrapin shrugged. “Just curious.”

 

Nathalie withdrew the ring from her pocket, holding it out to Gabriel. “Ready?”

 

He nodded, taking it and threading it onto his right hand. She held out the earrings next, which he carefully pinned to each cuff in turn. A mild wave of dizziness returned, and he closed his eyes for a moment to adjust. 

 

Terrapin touched the bracelet on his other arm and quietly stepped back, turning his head as he whispered, “Wayzz, Sass: combine.”

 

“You can do this, Gabriel,” Nathalie encouraged. “Just a bit longer and this will all be over.”

 

Gabriel grasped his assistant on the shoulder in grateful solidarity. Straightening, he cleared his throat. “Plagg, Tikki: combine!”

 

***

 

Ushering Kaalki back into her purse, Marinette clipped the butterfly brooch onto her shirt. Nooroo appeared before her, confusion writ across the kwami’s face.

 

“No time to explain,” she hurried. “Nooroo, gossamer wings rise!”

 

***

 

Gabriel felt the magical fire coursing through his veins. “It’s almost indescribable,” he breathed. “I sense the miraculous pulling energy from within me, and yet I also feel more powerful than I could have ever imagined.”

 

Nathalie gave him a complaisant smile. “Perhaps we should continue,” she suggested. “You don’t want to weaken before you’ve made your wish.”

 

“Of course, you’re right.” He closed his eyes once more, recalling the words from his study of the grimoire. “I call upon the powers of Creation and Destruction. Miraculous, lend me your--”

 

His words trailed off and as though frozen in time Gabriel stood with suddenly vacant eyes, staring into the distance.

 

***

 

“Maestro, I am Pessonia.”

 

The connection between them was stronger than she had expected, and Pessonia was almost overwhelmed by the tremendous sorrow that flooded back toward her from her target. Flashes of memories invaded her thoughts and it became increasingly difficult to separate his from her own. Gabriel Agreste was a brilliant, creative mind but years of unresolved grief and guilt had darkened his soul leaving cynicism and empty despair behind.

 

A watershed moment in his aching past, Emilie’s downfall was nonetheless surrounded by a lifetime of trauma, going back to his wretched, stifled childhood. Pessonia would have been lost in the cacophony of emotions that swirled in her heart but for her sense of duty, which anchored her in the maelstrom.

 

“You’ve known so much heartache, Maestro,” she empathized. “In spite of this, your true passion has been your work -- bringing beauty to the world. Your vision is a thing to behold; allow it to guide you. The power to change must come from within, but you are not alone.”

 

His desperate gratitude clawed at her and she took a moment to focus her thoughts once again.  “I give you the power to ascend your emotions, Maestro. In so doing you can heal the brokenhearted and bring them peace. To help you on your journey, I ask you to relinquish the miraculous. Live your life in good health and wellbeing.”

 

***

 

“Gabriel?”

 

A solitary tear slipped down his cheek, but the hint of a smile turned up the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

The light of Pessonia’s gift shimmered from his head to his toes and then burst into a blinding brilliance that filled the entire sanctuary before receding once again. Gabriel remained enveloped in a warm and luminent aura. He fell to his knees, hands resting on the cold ground. 

 

“I have been so lost,” he murmured.

 

“Father?”

 

Gabriel lifted his head, fixing his gaze on his son. “Come to me.”

 

Adrien stepped warily closer and watched as his father sat back. Rising, the man lifted a hand to his cuff and began unfastening the earring there.

 

“What are you doing?” Nathalie hissed, darting forward.

 

“He’s been tenshimatized,” Adrien murmured in awe.

 

A look of pure panic colored her eyes as his meaning became clear. “No!” she cried out. Before Adrien could react, she shoved him aside and reached out to grab hold of Maestro.

 

“Gabriel, you can fight this!” she urged. “Where did she get you?” Nathalie searched with a desperate fervor, inspecting his peaceful face, the wedding ring on his left hand, the black cat miraculous on his right. The glow surrounding him seemed to emanate from his wrists, and she grit her teeth in irritation. “The earrings.” Reaching out, she grasped hold of his left hand and plucked the miraculous from his cuff. 

 

Her actions seemed to rouse him from his meditative daze, and he focused on her sadly. 

 

“Nathalie, it’s time to let go.”

 

“No!”

 

She shook her head violently and made to grasp his other cuff. He pulled back, but she followed and ripped out the second.

 

“I have to crack it,” she thought aloud, “but it’s okay -- we fixed Dusuu we can fix this, too.” Raising her fist into the air, she threw the earrings to the ground and lifted her foot to stomp her shoe upon them.

 

The light surrounding Maestro ebbed slightly, breaking his inner peace. “Foolish woman,” he uttered. With lightning speed he grasped her, pulling her off balance. With borrowed strength he lifted her into the air and tossed her aside as though she were a mere toy. Her back collided with the far wall in a dull thud and she slid, unconscious, to a heap on the ground.

 

A fluttering sound at his back gave Adrien pause. Wrapped in an iridescent blue suit, Pessonia was a vision. Her ever-present pigtails were wrapped with a lustrous, silky material that trailed behind her in imitation of a butterfly’s wings. Her small stature was overwhelmed by her bearing, commanding but beneficent as she stepped purposefully toward Maestro.

 

In her presence he fell back to the ground, but his obeisance was short-lived. Adrien cursed under his breath at the crunching sound as a white butterfly emerged from the cracked earring under Maestro’s knee. Adrien dropped to the ground, scrambling forward to snatch up the broken miraculous and its match before reaching for Maestro’s right hand.

 

“You’ve betrayed me.” Gabriel’s former serenity evaporated and bitterness rushed in to fill the void. He drew back, raising his eyes toward his son. They glowed with the poisonous green of destruction unbalanced.

 

In a rare show of good fortune, the bracelet on Adrien’s left wrist pinched his skin in reminder. He gripped it, sliding the snake’s head back. “Second chance,” he whispered.

 

Pére de Chat pounced, knocking the wind out of Adrien’s lungs. He turned to his side and coughed as the weight suddenly lifted off of him. Pessonia tossed the unhinged cat aside and took up a guarding position, her staff crossed protectively before her.

 

Adrien heaved a breath before tugging at her elbow and thrusting his hand forward. She accepted the earrings quickly as Gabriel made his second attack, twisting aside just in time to avoid a collision. He flipped and righted himself, landing behind his son and crouching once more.

 

“You’re no son of mine,” Gabriel growled.

 

“Chat!” 

 

Pessonia tossed her staff toward him and he caught it, brandishing it as a sword. His strength weakening, Gabriel was nonetheless capable of maintaining the offense. Adrien kept him occupied, giving his partner time to slip her earrings back in place.

 

“Tikki, spots on!”

 

Shoving Gabriel aside again, Adrien held his breath in anxiety as the transformation took hold. Black spots travelled across Pessonia’s body, but to his dismay the effect seemed muted. She removed the weapon from her hip, quickly testing its weight and capability before catching Adrien’s attention with a whistle.

 

He took her direction, backing himself toward the gangway and drawing Gabriel further away. Ladybug threw out the yo-yo in an arc, aiming to wrap around her opponent’s leg. The weapon missed, clattering against the railing.

 

“You!” Gabriel backhanded his son, then twisted to turn his full attention on Ladybug. “You turned my son against me!” He prowled forward, gripping the railings on either side and scraping his claws against the steel as he advanced.

 

Adrien cringed against the sound, but forced himself back up to his feet.

 

Ladybug tugged on the yo-yo to retract, retreating toward the rose window. She felt her heel meet the edge of the platform and her eyes darted about for an escape route.

 

“Cataclysm,” Gabriel growled.

 

Time slowed to a crawl and as his clawed fingers reached out Ladybug leaned back in a futile attempt to avoid contact. She felt the tips of destruction graze her midsection and a searing fire tore across her limbs.

 

“No!” Chat screamed.

 

The world went black.

 

“Second--”

 

***

 

Pére de Chat pounced, knocking the wind out of Adrien’s lungs. He turned to his side and coughed as the weight suddenly lifted off of him. Pessonia tossed Gabriel aside and took up a guarding position, her staff crossed protectively before her.

 

Adrien heaved a breath before tugging at her elbow and thrusting his hand forward.

 

“After you miss, circle the platform and stop  _ East _ ,” he urged as she quickly accepted the earrings.

 

Gabriel made his second attack as Pessonia twisted aside just in time to avoid a collision. He flipped and righted himself, landing behind his son and crouching once more.

 

“You’re no son of mine,” Gabriel growled.

 

“Chat!” 

 

Pessonia tossed her staff toward him and he caught it, brandishing it as a sword. Adrien kept their nemesis occupied while his partner donned her earrings once again.

 

“Tikki, spots on!”

 

Adrien shoved Gabriel aside.

 

Ladybug removed the weapon from her hip, quickly testing its weight and capability before whistling her readiness.

 

Once again he backed himself toward the gangway, eyeing the trajectory of Ladybug’s throw. His staff intercepted the disc at the last moment and he batted it upward, jumping to catch it. 

 

Gabriel raged, and his attention switched to Ladybug. “You! You’ve turned my son against me!” He prowled forward, gripping the railings on either side and scraping his claws against the steel as he advanced.

 

Ladybug started to back away toward the rose window, but quickly sidestepped to her right. Gabriel continued to advance. Behind him, Adrien reared back, tossing the staff up into the rafters above.

 

Marinette continued making her way around the edge of the platform, keeping her opponent in sight as she neared the Eastern side. Her heel met the capsule behind her and she felt herself falling back over it.

 

“Cataclysm,” Gabriel growled.

 

Time slowed to a crawl and as his clawed hands reached for her Adrien swept Ladybug into the rafters. The destructive force at Gabriel’s fingertips connected with the capsule. Dangling from her yo-yo in her partner’s grip, Ladybug gasped as the dark magic enveloped the stasis chamber. The capsule held its shape for a moment before crumbling into dust at Gabriel’s feet. 

 

His frustrated wail was quickly overshadowed by a droning noise which grew exponentially louder. Adrien started them swinging once again, using the momentum to hurl them toward the opposite end of the sanctuary. They landed as the first sparks of the overloaded electrical system began to erupt. Fuses blew around them and the ground began to shake.

 

“I think the chamber was on a dedicated backup system,” Adrien shouted above the din. “Let’s try to get to the elevator, it looks like it still has power.”

 

He tugged her in the direction of the tube, but her feet held firm as she spared a backward glance toward the broken man under the rose window.

 

“Monsieur Agreste!”

 

Somehow he heard her, blinking his eyes as though waking from a nightmare. Pulling himself to a stand he took a step and stumbled, energy drained. He growled, pulling the black cat miraculous from his finger and tossing it into the distance. An invisible weight lifted, he managed to stumble his way past the debris and clamber to the edge of the gangway.

 

“Ladybug! We need to go before the ceiling collapses!”

 

She shook her head. “I’m not going to leave him here,” she insisted, tugging in the opposite direction. “Nooroo, gossamer wings fall!”

 

The purple kwami appeared before her. “Can you sense Dusuu?”

 

Nooroo shook his head.

 

“C’mon Chat!” Ladybug sprinted down the gangway, collapsing to her knees next to her fallen idol. 

 

Adrien stopped behind her just as a large piece of debris loosened from the roof. “Shell-ter!”

 

Rising to cover the trio, the dome sparkled against the centuries-old plaster crumbling around them. The snake miraculous beeped, and Sass flew out to join the huddled group. In the distance they could hear the approach of emergency vehicles. A bright flash exploded, blinding them with its brilliance and then as quickly as it had started, the destruction faded into silence.

 

“We should get out of here,” Ladybug suggested.

 

Adrien hoisted his father to his feet, the elder man bearing no resemblance to the daunting villain he’d been only an hour ago. “Lead the way,” he rasped.

 

“Hey!”

 

Adrien paused, turning his head toward the affronted call.

 

Zipping out of the darkness, Plagg glowered at him as he held out his dust-covered, silver ring. “Forgetting something?”

 

Adrien took the ring from his paws and slipped it on his finger before unceremoniously plucking the kwami from the air and squeezing him tight. “Thanks, Plagg.”

 

“All right, enough of that. Let’s get out of this creepy dump.”

 

***

 

Ladybug thanked the paramedic and walked away, allowing the gentleman to tend to his patient. Chat Noir met her as she made her way toward the mansion just in time to steady her as she weakened.

 

“We need to get you out of here so you can detransform,” he urged.

 

“Not yet.”

 

She peered up at the starlit sky. “Here goes nothing.” Taking a deep breath, she called out, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

 

A pink blur of magical ladybugs appeared around them, circling tightly around the pair for a moment before flowing toward the mansion. Ladybug slipped to the ground through Chat’s arms and he shielded her from view.

 

“Did it…?”

 

She lifted a hand cautiously toward her ear, fingering the earring there. Relief flooded her in a rush and she nodded. “Yes, they’re fixed.”

 

They chirped a warning, already down to a single dot. Chat lifted her into his arms and leapt into the back gardens where he lowered her to the ground before turning his back to her.

 

“Tikki, spots off.”

 

The red kwami evacuated the miraculous and almost immediately dropped into Marinette’s waiting palms.

 

“You did it,” Tikki praised weakly.

 

Marinette nuzzled her little friend. “ _ We _ did it,” she corrected, reaching into her purse for a scrap of food. “I gave Kaalki your cookie,” she apologized. “Will a cracker do?”

 

The kwami nodded enthusiastically and accepted her treat.

 

“The search and rescue team is looking for Nathalie,” Marinette offered to break the silence.

 

Chat nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Do you think-- did the miraculous cure fix the stasis chamber?”

 

Marinette bit her lip. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But Gabriel was already released from Nooroo’s power when it happened, so…”

 

_ Probably not _ . She didn’t have to say it. “It’s just as well,” Chat sighed after a bit. “Maybe it was enough to force him to face,” his voice caught and he cleared his throat, “her death.”

 

“Ladybug!”

 

Marinette wiped away the tears that had started to fill her eyes. Barkk flitted over to her, twirling in the air with excess energy. She scratched him on the head and held out her hand for the kwami to land beside Tikki.

 

“Did you find her?”

 

“No ma’am,” he relayed apologetically. “Dusuu is gone and there weren’t any female humans in the building. I did find this,” he held out a scrap of clothing, “that had a woman’s scent on it.”

 

Marinette passed the fabric back toward Chat.

 

“It’s from her blazer,” Chat murmured. He dropped it to the ground. “She got away with the peacock brooch.”

 

They stood in silence, each considering the implications of her escape. A chill breeze pierced the otherwise still night and Marinette shivered.

 

“Chat,” she started to turn, but his hand reached out to stop her.

 

“Mayura is still out there.”

 

Marinette frowned. “Yes, but--”

 

“-- and for all Gabriel Agreste knows, Ladybug and Chat Noir are nothing more than good friends.”

 

“What are you trying to say?” Her query came out with a tremor of panic. Surely he didn’t mean…

 

“Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t be anything more than partners. Not if we want to keep Ladybug’s identity secret.”

 

“Chat--”

 

“I need to go check on Monsieur Agreste,” he interrupted in an empty tone. “I’ll see you around.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm not that cruel.)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really long chapter...
> 
> It's also a sort-of song fic at the end. So if you're inclined to listen along, start up 'Lady in Red' by Chris De Burgh when Adrien talks to the DJ. The rate at which the lyrics are sung doesn't quite match how long the dialog and actions would fill. I took some artistic liberties there :-)

Marinette slid into her seat just as the tardy bell rang.

 

“Cutting it a little close there, aren’t we?” Alya teased.

 

A yawn was Marinette’s only reply before she started pulling out her pencils in preparation for the exam. She’d managed to get home at a reasonable hour in spite of the previous night’s adventure, for which she was grateful. Still, time passed forward mercilessly as she tossed and turned in her bed and her thoughts raced. She and Chat were at an impasse -- one she didn’t know how to resolve and the clock was ticking. Mayor Bourgeois would want answers about the event at the Agreste mansion and the press would not be content to wait more than a day.

 

“Does anyone know where Adrien is?”

 

Madame Peletier’s query jolted Marinette back into the present. Chat hadn’t contacted her since she’d left the scene, probably staying late into the night to tie up loose ends. Adrien’s grade point average could probably sustain a failed exam, but she knew it would grate on his conscience.

 

Before she could offer up an excuse, Nino raised his hand. “He was with his dad at the hospital all night. He is going to try to--”

 

The door opened. 

 

“--make it.”

 

Adrien appeared, shoulders hunched over and eyes downcast. Whispers echoed throughout the room as their classmates took in his unusually weary and downtrodden appearance.

 

“All right class,” the teacher clapped her hands. “This exam will take the whole two hours, so let’s quiet down and get our pencils out.”

 

Marinette tried to make eye contact, but Adrien kept his eyes hidden beneath unruly bangs and quickly took his seat. She noticed his rumpled shirt and mused that he must not have had time to change since Sunday night. She sighed inwardly as she accepted a test booklet from Madame Peletier.

 

Alya poked at her side. “I hear some serious stuff went down at Adrien’s,” she whispered. “Nino hasn’t been able to get anything out of him.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Marinette murmured absently.

 

Alya sat back in surprise. “You do?”

 

Preparing to backtrack, Marinette was saved by the stern tapping of Madame Peletier’s pen on her desk . “All right, the exams are out. Please keep your eyes and your thoughts to yourself and begin.”

 

***

 

Adrien made his way down the front steps, thankful for the shortened school day. His driver awaited him beside the silver sedan and he felt a surge of relief. Just a few more meters and he’d be safe.

 

“Adrien!”

 

Or not.

 

He closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath before turning toward her. “Marinette.”

 

She came to a stop, suddenly unable to piece together her thoughts into words. He knew the feeling.

 

“H-how’s your father?”

 

“Fine. They’ll be releasing him this afternoon.”

 

She bit her lip, and he could practically hear the concerned panic that was undoubtedly running rampant in her mind.

 

Behind them, Gorilla cleared his throat impatiently and for once, Adrien was grateful for the interruption.

 

“I have to go.”

 

Clearly unhappy with the situation, Marinette nonetheless nodded her head. 

 

Adrien turned toward the car, stepping a foot into the back seat. His guilty conscience nagged at him, and he spared a backward glance. “Nice weather today,” he noted. “Might be good to get some fresh air after lunch.”

 

She blinked at him, nodding slowly as she parsed the meaning behind his casual comment. With that he entered the car and sped off toward home.

 

***

 

Ladybug knew her kitty well.

 

He sat atop the Arc de Triomphe, legs dangling over the edge as he watched the living city below. Her footsteps alerted him to her presence and he turned slightly to watch her approach.

 

“Nice weather today,” she commented as she sat beside him.

 

“Can you handle the meeting with the mayor alone?”

 

So unlike Chat, getting straight to the point. Ladybug nodded. “We’re in agreement, then?”

 

He shook his head and sighed. “No, but I’m a little biased in this situation.”

 

They’d had the conversation before. Hawk Moth now defeated, Gabriel Agreste had to be dealt with. Ladybug could understand Chat’s reticence, of course. She, too, had reservations about the enormous backlash Adrien would face once the news became public. Still, years of misdeeds could not go unpunished, and the public would be clamoring for some closure on the subject.

 

Chat had lobbied for misdirection -- telling the Mayor that Hawk Moth was gone while keeping Monsieur Agreste under close watch. He couldn’t help but take a bit of satisfaction in the idea of turning the tables on the man -- it seemed fitting somehow. Ladybug conceded that he was no longer a threat to the public, and could potentially do some good in the form of civic service to atone for his crimes.

 

However, she pointed out, it wasn’t for them to make that call. The entire city -- even the world, in some cases -- had been affected by Gabriel’s choices. The public would, understandably, insist on knowing the villain’s identity and bringing him to face their judgment. The fact that Adrien would be collateral damage in the process -- well, he wouldn’t be the first to pay a price for the crimes of a close family member.

 

Ladybug sighed, and leaned toward her partner to rest her head on his shoulder. He stiffened beneath her.

 

“I-- I’m going to be pretty busy for the next week or so,” he started, “and we probably don’t need to bother with patrols. When Mayura returns, she’s going to go straight to Gabriel.”

 

His logic was sound, but that didn’t help with the dread that sat heavy in her stomach. “What are you saying?”

 

Chat placed his hands on the concrete and pushed to stand. Ladybug peered up at him, eyes searching his face for consolation that wasn’t there. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I guess-- I need time.”

 

“O- okay,” she whispered, holding back a fresh wave of tears.

 

“Okay,” he echoed, suddenly awkward. A moment passed as he tried to find some assuring words to offer his partner, but none came. With a final nod, he vaulted off the monument toward Agreste mansion.

 

***

 

Mayor Bourgeois practically leapt from his seat when the assistant ushered Ladybug into his opulent office.

 

“Where is Chat Noir?” he questioned with a frown.

 

Ladybug gave him a wan smile. “He’s needed elsewhere, but I can go ahead and debrief you on the situation.”

 

The mayor gestured toward a chair opposite his desk. Once seated, the normally self-assured superheroine started to fidget. “You’re a busy man, so why don’t you tell me what the police chief has reported and I’ll fill in the gaps.”

 

He quickly relayed the results of their failed search and rescue, as well as Chat Noir’s vague assurances to the team leader that further information would be forthcoming. “It appears the Agreste mansion was built on top of a rather old, Gothic cathedral. Normally a building permit would not have been issued under such circumstances, so I asked my assistant to search the archives this morning. He didn’t find any record of the site.”

 

Ladybug rubbed at the bridge of her nose, steeling herself for the upcoming revelation. “Mayor Bourgeois, Chat Noir and I successfully retrieved the Butterfly miraculous from Hawk Moth.”

 

His question suddenly unimportant, the mayor leaned forward in urgency. “Then, you know who he is?”

 

She nodded. “It’s Gabriel Agreste.”

 

Shocked into silence, he sat back. For a few tense moments neither spoke. Clearing his throat, Mayor Bourgeois gathered his wits and tapped at the intercom on his telephone.

 

“Oscar, call Monsieur Durant to the office please.”

 

The assistant acknowledged his request and the mayor stood, beginning to pace along the windows behind his desk. “Gabriel and I have been friends for many years,” he confided absently. “Adrien and Chloe practically grew up together when they were young children.” He turned suddenly to regard the superheroine, expression almost desperate. “Are you certain?”

 

Her gaze drooping with resignation, she nodded and he heaved a sigh in response. His mind racing, he tried to put the pieces together and form a plan of action. “Hawk Moth had an associate, yes? I assume you have identified her as well.”

 

“Yes, Nathalie Sancoeur.”

 

He was not surprised by her response. “And she wasn’t found by the rescue team, so we presume she escaped.”

 

“We expect she’ll appear again at some point,” Ladybug confirmed, “but for now all we can do is wait.”

 

“I should probably publish a red notice with INTERPOL.”

 

“That may not be wise, sir. The peacock miraculous gives her the ability to summon up a protective companion. I’m confident that Chat and I can handle her with the time comes, but an ordinary police force will probably be ineffective.” She bit her lip in thought. “It seems Mayura’s motivation was helping Gabriel revive Emilie Agreste. Now that he’s been neutralized, it’s possible she’ll give up -- with time.”

 

Mayor Bourgeois gaped at her. “Revive… Emilie Agreste?”

 

“She was being held in some kind of life support system in the ruins,” Ladybug explained. “We believe she used the peacock miraculous while it was damaged, and it put her into a coma.” She paused in her explanation, debating how much she should reveal to the mayor. “Gabriel Agreste believed that my and Chat’s miraculous could be used to heal her, but he was mistaken.”

 

A knock at the door spared her the need to elaborate, and the assistant lead Monsieur Durant into the room.

 

“Mayor, Madame Ladybug,” he greeted them with curiosity as he took a seat beside the heroine.

 

“Monsieur Durant is our chief prosecutor,” Mayor Bourgeois explained to Ladybug as he lowered himself behind the desk once more. “Victor, I will be sending the police out to collect Gabriel Agreste shortly. He’s our alleged Hawk Moth.”

 

Victor took the news with a measure of surprise, which he carefully stifled with admirable professionalism. “Congratulations, Madame,” he praised Ladybug. 

 

She gave him a polite smile before turning her attention back to the mayor.

 

“I take it you intend for the justice department to press charges?” the prosecutor went on.

 

The mayor nodded, tapping his fingers nervously against the solid wood of his desk.

 

“That will be... challenging,” Monsieur Durant determined. “Our laws were written in consideration of ordinary citizens. This is unprecedented.”

 

“Surely he is in violation of some law?”

 

The prosecutor scratched his chin in thought. “Thanks to the hard work of our resident superheroes, no one has suffered tangible damages. He cannot be charged with vandalism, murder--”

 

“-- attempted murder?”

 

Victor considered the question, frowning. “Possibly, but we would have to prove that he intended to cause death. At best, we could claim this was true of his first attack, prior to our knowledge of Ladybug’s restorative abilities.”

 

“This is unacceptable,” Mayor Bourgeois insisted. “What about Madame Agreste? Could he be held responsible for her situation?”

 

Ladybug shook her head. “Probably not, unless you have evidence that he forced her to use the peacock miraculous.”

 

“Terrorism.”

 

The trio turned back to regard Oscar, who shrugged back at them shyly.

 

“That might work,” the prosecutor ventured. “It’s out of my realm of expertise, but we can probably arrest him under that charge for the time being.”

 

The mayor placed his hands on his desk firmly. “Very well, we’ll have a warrant written for Gabriel Agreste.”

 

“What about his son?”

 

Ladybug startled. “What about him?”

 

Mayor Bourgeois deflated. “If Madame Agreste was involved with this as well, then it’s reasonable to assume their son may have some culpability.”

 

“No!”

 

The mayor blinked at her outburst and Monsieur Durant studied her carefully.

 

She shook her head emphatically. “I know he’s not involved.”

 

“How?”

 

“I-- I can’t share that information.”

 

“Then we have no choice but to bring him in for questioning,” the prosecutor asserted. “Besides, if they come willingly we could keep Hawk Moth’s identity from the press a bit longer. We’ll explain that we’ve asked for their help with our investigation.”

 

 “As though that will stop them from speculating,” the mayor snorted. “Very well. Oscar?”

 

The assistant acknowledged the mayor’s unspoken order and set about obtaining an arrest warrant for the two Agreste men.

 

“We have a press conference scheduled for six this evening. Ladybug, I’d appreciate it if you and Chat Noir would join us.”

 

Assuring him she’d try, Ladybug excused herself and quickly made her way out of the office. A sense of impending doom surrounded her. Unfortunately, this was a problem her miraculous could not solve.

 

***

 

By Tuesday morning, the rumor mill was in full swing. Hushed whispers followed in Adrien’s footsteps as he passed through the halls. Nino and Alya flanked him on either side, glaring ominously toward those who dared to speak up. While he appreciated their intentions, Adrien was starting to think their guard was making things worse.

 

His one saving grace was timing. With finals in full swing and summer recess on the horizon, most of the student body were too busy coordinating their plans and cramming for their next exam. His calculus teacher had offered to reschedule his final for a later date, knowing that he’d been stuck at the local precinct late into the evening. Adrien thanked her politely but insisted he was ready. If nothing else, the exam would keep his mind off his troubles for a few short hours.

 

Marinette stayed away -- and he couldn’t make up his mind if he was relieved or depressed by her inaction. Every now and then he caught her gaze and felt a knot of apprehension at the sadness reflected there. He’d hurt her, and that fact was almost more unbearable than the circus surrounding his family’s reputation.

 

Tuesday evening, Ladybug received word via the Ladyblog that the police department needed to see her. After downing a quick supper, Marinette transformed and made her way to “the library” in order to “finish studying for her history exam.”

 

“Thank you for coming, Mademoiselle Ladybug.”

 

Ladybug took the offered seat in Monsieur Durant’s office, brow furrowed with concern.

 

“We have a problem,” he began. “As you may be aware, French law only allows us to hold a citizen in detention for up to 24 hours after arrest. Under some circumstances it can be stretched to two days or even -- rarely -- up to four.”

 

The prosecutor rubbed at his temples, and Ladybug couldn’t help but note the stress and exhaustion etched on the man’s features.

 

“Gabriel Agreste is a wealthy man. He’s retained two of the top criminal defense lawyers in the city and they are threatening legal action if we do not release Gabriel to his own recognizance by tomorrow evening. We have a good case for asking the full 96 hours, but not without some evidence to present to the judge. A smoking gun, if you will. Like--”

 

“The butterfly miraculous,” she finished.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Ladybug felt a chill at the request. It seemed obvious, in hindsight, that this would be an issue. Unfortunately, she hadn’t really given it any thought before. “I don’t think I can do that,” she replied haltingly.

 

“Madame Ladybug, if we don’t get this process underway immediately, Gabriel Agreste will be released by tomorrow night. That gives us precious little time to work up a case for an expedited trial. All of the work you and Chat Noir have put in -- would be for nothing.”

 

She was completely torn in two on the matter. On the one hand, the prosecutor’s position was reasonable. Without hard evidence for the court, there was little the government could do to ensure Gabriel Agreste was brought to justice. The prosecutor was in a position of authority and clearly had more experience in this area.

 

On the other hand…

 

“The butterfly miraculous has been placed with a guardian,” she explained. “While I do want to help you, I just… can’t.”

 

Monsieur Durant frowned and leaned back, tapping his fingers across his desk. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”

 

A younger, more naive Ladybug might have relented at the intimidation. Having managed the takedown of numerous akuma victims, the defeat of Hawk Moth, and the overwhelming rollercoaster of adolescence, however, fortified her self-confidence. She exhaled slowly, and rose from her seat.

 

“You will do what you need to do, Monsieur,” she replied, voice calmer than she felt. “And I will do the same.”

 

***

 

The final bell of her last day of lycee rang as Marinette put down her pencil. She’d finished her exam over twenty minutes ago, but her omnipresent anxiety had her rechecking her work until the last possible second. She stretched her aching fingers before gathering up her completed work and bringing it up to the teacher’s desk.

 

They exchanged a brief farewell and with that, Marinette exited the classroom for the last time as a student. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the situation. Sure, a summer of fun and relative leisure with her friends stretched out before her -- as well as the pursuit of her fashion career dreams. Still, there was something bittersweet about leaving behind the daily routine that had dominated most of her young life.

 

An unexpected tap on her shoulder tore a yelp from Marinette’s throat.

 

“Sorry,” Adrien mumbled.

 

“It’s okay,” she exhaled, letting her heartbeat slow to a more sedate pace.

 

He seemed uncertain, and shuffled his feet a moment in silence before making wary eye contact. “Can I walk you home?”

 

Equally circumspect, Marinette nodded and they made their way down the hall and toward the exit.

 

“Father was released yesterday morning.” Adrien’s tone didn’t reveal his feelings on the matter, and his words seemed as though they were directed toward the ground rather than his companion. “The police have instructed him to stay in the country, and there will be a hearing scheduled for next month.”

 

Marinette nodded.

 

“I moved back home to keep an eye on… things. My driver is working for me now, so he helps out a lot.”

 

“I see.”

 

The distance from school to the bakery was short, and already they stood outside the front door. Marinette’s mind raced with a thousand questions but the gloomy look in his downcast gaze kept her from speaking them aloud. Instead, she reached out tentatively and rested her hands on his tense shoulders.

 

“Adrien, if you need anything, well -- just don’t forget we’re here for you.  _ I’m _ here for you,” she emphasized.

 

An almost incredulous huff passed his lips and he refused to meet her gaze, looking aside. “You shouldn’t be,” he murmured.

 

Her brows knit in concern and she tilted her head, trying to capture his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You have your whole life ahead of you. Going to school, becoming a fashion designer. Making new friends and -- “ his voice cracked, “boyfriends. There’s nothing for you to gain being friends with an Agreste, Marinette.”

 

Her fingers clenched against the fabric of his outer shirt almost painfully and Adrien winced. Withdrawing her hands, it took everything in her not to shove him backward.

 

“You stop that, right now!” she hissed. “Nino, Alya and I couldn’t care less that you’re an Agreste and you know that! In fact, I’m insulted by the suggestion!” Frustrated tears sprang to her eyes and Adrien met her fiery glare with trepidation. He’d never seen Marinette’s passionate indignation directed toward himself and it was truly a sight to behold.

 

“You are not your father,” she reprimanded him. “How many times do I have to tell you that? Should I say it again? You. Are. Not. Your. Father! And I-- “ she closed her eyes willing her fluttering heart to slow its pace, “-- I love you, Adrien Agreste. I love your kindness, and your intelligence, and God help me I love your stupid puns, too!”

 

She opened her eyes again, cautiously, to the sight of his green pupils blown wide with shock. Taking a calming breath, she plowed on. “You want some space, I’ll give it to you. But don’t think for one minute that I’ve given up on you. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

 

His mouth worked as though he wanted to respond, but she’d left him completely speechless.

 

Satisfied that she’d said her piece, Marinette nodded curtly and slipped into the bakery, its jingling bell ringing behind her.

 

***

 

Sabine Cheng welcomed the new graduates into the living room of her home, smiling brightly at the pair. “You look lovely, Alya,” she cooed. “And Nino! So dapper!”

 

He preened at her words, but beside him Alya was scowling.

 

“I can’t believe I lost another twenty euro,” she grumbled.

 

Nino merely shrugged in reply.

 

“Marinette! Your friends are here!”

 

The teen was already halfway down the stairs, hair in disarray and a robe tied tightly around her waist. “Alya, I need help!”

 

Rolling her eyes playfully, Alya strode toward the staircase. “Stay out of trouble,” she admonished her boyfriend before disappearing into Marinette’s loft bedroom.

 

The room was in a state best described as organized chaos. Makeup covered the entirety of Marinette’s vanity. Various shawls, ribbons and belts draped from the ladder leading up to her bed. On her desk, bits of fabric and sewing supplies were scattered around her computer and stacks of magazines.

 

“I thought you finished your dress last week?”

 

Marinette winced. “I did, but I had to make some changes.”

 

“Had to?”

 

Point taken, Marinette didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she beckoned Alya over to the vanity where she swept her makeup pile into a drawer before pulling out a hair curler and assortment of brushes and combs. “I was thinking curls, but I can’t seem to get them right,” she pouted.

 

Alya tapped her chin in thought. “Your dress is mid-length, right? I think that could work. Will your hair hold a curl?”

 

“For a few hours. It’ll be more of a wave after that.”

 

Getting to work, the girls fell into a companionable chatter about everything and nothing. Alya shared her family’s plans for a trip to Martinique in August. Marinette worried that she’d be swept away by a hurricane, and Alya laughed at her naiveté.

 

“Hun, we used to live there year-round.”

 

_ Oh, right _ . She’d almost forgotten that Alya had moved to Paris a mere three years ago.

 

“Were you able to find an internship for the fall? I still can’t believe you turned down Polimoda,” Alya shook her head in dismay at the memory.

 

Marinette played with the tie of her robe. “Actually, I had another change of plans.”

 

Alya paused in her task, leaning to the side to catch Marinette’s expression in the mirror. “Oh?”   
  


“The cutoff for the University of the Arts was today,” she murmured. “I went online and completed my acceptance this afternoon. That’s the main reason I’m running late.”

 

Almost dropping the hair curler in her enthusiasm, Alya threw her arms around her best friend and gave her a tight hug. “I’m so glad! You still have the full scholarship, right?”

 

“I do,” she replied. “Tuition, room, books and a meal plan.”

 

“That is awesome, Mari. I’m so happy!”

 

A tap at the hatch to her bedroom preceded Sabine poking her head into the room. “About ready? It’s almost seven.”

 

“A few more minutes,” Alya called back. “Beauty cannot be rushed.”

 

A couple of minutes later, Alya unplugged the iron and stood back to admire her work. “Perfection,” she announced.

 

Marinette had to agree. Her hair flowed freely around her head in light curls, landing just above her shoulders. It would be almost completely flat by the end of the night but for now, she could almost pass as a cover model on one of her fashion magazines. “Thanks, Alya.”

 

“No problem. Now, put on that dress and let’s get going. We’re going to be later than Adrien at this point.”

 

Marinette blinked. “Adrien’s going?”

 

“Well yeah... “ Alya frowned again, “no thanks to you, by the way. I could have really used that twenty.” Seeing the confused look on her friend’s face, Alya sighed. “Nino and I had a bet that you and Adrien would be going to this thing together.”

 

“No, I know that,” Marinette interjected. “I just-- I didn’t think he was going.”

 

“He texted Nino earlier that he was running late,” Alya ventured. “So unless you know something we don’t…”

 

Another tap at the hatch interrupted them, and Alya waved her towards the dress. “Go on, get dressed Cinderella. Wouldn’t want the princess to be late for the ball.”

 

***

 

Dressing took only a few more minutes, followed by a quick assessment of her accessory options. Marinette selected a black clutch into which she slipped a pair of macarons before ushering Tikki inside.

 

“You look so pretty Marinette!” Tikki praised.

 

Marinette smiled, patting her kwami on the head with affection as she made her way down into the living room below. The occupants were crowded around the television, their rapt attention directed toward the news report on the screen.

 

Alya noticed her appearance and turned a worried frown in her direction. “Looks like Adrien might be missing it after all,” she sighed. “Nino just got a text.”

 

On the screen, Nadja Chamack stood before the Eiffel Tower which was lit up with flashing lights from what appeared to be a squadron of police officers.

 

“An akuma…?”

 

Sabine glanced over, shaking her head before turning back to the screen.

 

_ “...urthering speculation that Gabriel Agreste was working with Hawk Moth.”  _

 

Nino cursed under his breath, and Sabine gasped. The news report switched to replay of a discussion panel from earlier in the week.

 

_ “Emilie Agreste disappears -- with no explanation -- and months later we have a super villain tormenting Paris. That’s not a coinci--” _

 

_ “Are you saying Emilie Agreste was Hawk Moth?” scoffed a second panelist with dismay. _

 

_ A third lifted her finger to interject, “that’s not unreasonable. We’re told Hawk Moth is gone a mere day after some disaster at the Agreste mansion. There’s a secret passage leading down into a cavern--” _

 

_ “-- maybe Gabriel Agreste is Hawk Moth, then?” _

 

_ The third shrugged. “Maybe. I’m just saying, it could be Emilie, too--” _

 

_ “-- or Adrien,” the first panelist offered up. “He and his father were brought in for questioning. I’ve always thought that boy was a little too perfect--” _

 

“Fuck you,” Nino growled again.

 

Tom slanted a glance his way but said nothing.

 

“What’s going on?” Marinette asked, thoroughly confused.

 

Alya wrapped an arm around her shoulders, eyes still focused on the screen where they had once again switched to Nadja’s on the spot report. “Adrien’s dad is on the Eiffel Tower; they say he’s planning to jump.”

 

Marinette’s hands flew to her mouth, a tremor sweeping through her body.

 

“Hey, isn’t that your doctor?” Tom pointed toward the screen, where Dr. Gros was shuffling into his office to escape a bevy of reporters. His chants of “no comment” were muffled as he pushed away the microphones thrust toward his face.

 

Nodding, Marinette continued to watch the scene unfold.

 

“Dude,” Nino breathed, “you guys are seeing the same doctor.”

 

_ Because of course we are _ , a sardonic voice laughed in Marinette’s head. It sounded like Plagg.

 

Sabine inhaled, and clapped her hands together. “Okay everyone, enough of this. You three have a dance to get to and we,” she glanced toward Tom, “need to be getting to bed soon.” Her face softened at the troubled expressions on the three teenagers’ faces. “I’m sure Adrien wouldn’t want you to miss the dance.”

 

“She’s right,” Nino sighed. “I’ll check in with him and see if there’s anything we can do but for now…”

 

Alya nodded her agreement and followed him toward the door. “Marinette…?”

 

Marinette stood in place, her feet leaden with indecision. At last, she shook her head. “I’ll be along shortly. I need to-- um-- toilet.”

 

“We can wait,” Nino pointed out.

 

“N-no, this is…”

 

“Girl stuff?”

 

Marinette thanked God for her best friend once again and nodded. “It’s not far. I’ll see you there.”

 

The pair left for the dance and as soon as the door closed behind them, Marinette dashed up to her room as though the hounds of hell were at her feet.

 

“Tikki, spots on!”

 

***

 

Police tape kept the crowds at bay and officers milled about, coordinating their plans through radios. A steady murmur echoed from the onlookers, which raised into fleeting excitement when Ladybug landed at the base of the Eiffel Tower.

 

“Ladybug,” Officer Raincomprix greeted her with a strained voice, expression tight. “No akuma here, just civilian troubles.”

 

She nodded her understanding. “I know, I saw the report. Maybe I can help?” She pointed to the yo-yo at her hip meaningfully. “Just in case…”

 

He accepted her offer, and his expression lifted a bit. Ladybug turned toward the tower, leaping carefully toward the middle tier and then even more quietly toward the upper level.

 

“Stop right there,” Gabriel ordered, his gaze trained outward to the glimmering city.

 

Ladybug held her position, yo-yo in her grasp. “Okay,” she agreed.

 

The situation was well out of her experience, but she had to try. They remained in a silent stalemate for minutes that passed with agonizing slowness.

 

“I have nothing left,” Gabriel muttered at last. “My wife is gone. My reputation is in shambles.  _ Gabriel  _ will probably be bankrupt within the year.”

 

“You still have your son,” Ladybug countered.

 

Gabriel snorted with derision. “He’s little more than my jailer at the moment. Not that I can entirely blame him.”

 

His inward reflection distracting him, Ladybug took the opportunity to move closer. Bit by bit, she clambered the remaining few meters upward until she stood on the same beam as the distraught man.

 

“Adrien’s a good boy. A good  _ man _ ,” he corrected. “I’ve not been much of a father to him these last few years.”

 

His words were a massive understatement, and Ladybug found herself irritated by the observation. “You’re right,” she replied suddenly.

 

“Excuse me?” Gabriel turned toward her, surprised to see her standing a few meters away.

 

Ladybug took a deep breath, fingers flexing around her yo-yo. “You’ve been an awful father,” she clarified. “You lost your wife, but Adrien lost his mother. He needed you more than ever and you weren’t there, were you?” She didn’t wait for a reply, eyes trained on Gabriel’s feet as she let loose the thoughts she’d been holding inside. “And you’re right that he’s a good man. In spite of you, he’s made friends; friends who would do anything for him. 

 

“But surely there is some of you, in there? Of all the wonderful traits that make up your son -- is all of it Emilie? His intelligence? His charisma? Even now, as you stand up here threatening to take away the last bit of family he has left; I know he still loves you. He still  _ needs  _ you. It’s not too late; you can still be there for each other.”

 

She stepped a foot closer, halting when he shifted his weight.

 

“So yes, Monsieur Agreste, you’ve been a terrible father. The question is,” she paused, turning her gaze up to his face with a stoicism that surprised even herself, “what kind of father do you want to be tomorrow? Because if you end this now, there are no second chances.”

 

He made no reply, and she opened her yo-yo to extract a small card from the magical light within. Gabriel eyed her warily as she closed the device and handed over the card.

 

“Everyone needs help sometimes -- even superheroes. I spoke to my doctor and got a referral to a grief counselor. She’s expecting your call, if you’re brave enough to make it.”

 

He took the card from her hesitantly, and she forced back a sigh of relief. “Redemption is a worthy goal, too.”

 

He sniffed, and Ladybug was surprised to realize he was holding back tears. 

 

“I’m not sure I can be redeemed,” he confessed.

 

With that tiny glimmer of self-awareness, Ladybug was sure that he could. She covered the last steps between them, wrapping a steadying hand around his arm. “C’mon, Monsieur. Let’s start that journey together.”

 

***

 

Adrien turned away from the front doors of the Hotel Grand Paris, second-guessing his decision once again. His hand tapped where it rested on the open door of the sedan and he could hear his driver’s impatient harumph.

 

He didn’t care. He really didn’t.

 

_ Liar _ , his inner voice rebuked.

 

His father stood on the Eiffel Tower, ready to jump, and he’d decided he simply couldn’t afford to care anymore. There would be more whispers and rumors and bad publicity but that was becoming increasingly familiar to him. Nino had texted only moments before, assuring him that his friends understood if he couldn’t make it.

 

Adrien was tired. Tired of trying to do the right thing all the time. For once, he wanted to do something for himself. So he replied back that he was en route. Father’s temper tantrum be damned.

 

Or so he thought.

 

He shut the car door and walked toward a bench outside the hotel, pulling out his phone once more. He located the local news app and brought up the live stream. His eyes widened when the buffer caught up and the screen zoomed in to Ladybug approaching the blurry form of Gabriel Agreste.

 

He exhaled, ears deaf to the commentary explaining the situation. Ladybug was handing something to Gabriel when the video cut back to Nadja Chamack.

 

“Ladybug is with Office Raincomprix,” she reported, “we’re going to see if I can get a statement…”

 

Ladybug filled the screen, her expression tired. “Monsieur Agreste is going to be okay,” she affirmed. “I’d like to take this opportunity to request that you please give the Agreste family some space to work through current events. The police, Chat Noir, and I have the situation under control. I’m afraid I can’t stay for further--”

 

Adrien pressed the power button and stowed his phone once again. His heart swelled with relief and gratitude that threatened to overwhelm him. She was everything, wasn’t she? And he was entirely unworthy of her.

 

Still…

 

Standing straighter, Adrien waved off the driver and entered the hotel. Distant music echoed through the lobby, calling him toward the ballroom where the grad dance was in full swing. He pushed open the doors, studiously avoiding the curious glances thrown his way by attendees who’d seen the news. Scanning the room, he found Nino standing up by the DJ, undoubtedly irritating Alya with his music obsession.

 

Sure enough, the young woman marched up to him, a scowl on her face. “Can you please talk some sense into your boy? He’s not on duty today!” Her expression softened as she studied him, and it was clear she was straining to hold back the questions she wanted to ask.

 

Adrien nodded, turning toward the far end of the room where the DJ’s booth was set up.

 

“Hey.”

 

Nino stopped mid-sentence, a smile spreading across his features at the sight of his best friend. “Bro! You made it!”

 

Adrien accepted a friendly hug from the other teen. “Is uh, Marinette here?”

 

Nino shook his head. “She had some kind of girl emergency,” he made air quotes with a grin, “and told us to go ahead without her. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” His expression faltered a bit. “You okay, Dude?”

 

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. Ladybug took care of things.”

 

“She’s amazing like that, isn’t she?” Nino smiled. He gestured toward the DJ behind him. “I’m trying to get this guy to play something we can actually dance to.”

 

The DJ scowled.

 

Adrien started to speak, but was halted when Nino looked over his shoulder and dropped his jaw. “Wow.”

 

Turning around to see what the fuss was about, Adrien felt his heart skip a beat.

 

She was beautiful. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders framing her bright, mildly flushed face. Even from across the room he could see the blue of her eyes, accentuated by carefully applied eyeliner and shadow.

 

Her dress was mid-length and he recognized the shape of it from the sketch she’d done so many weeks ago. However, instead of the Chat-like green she’d originally envisioned, the dark fabric shimmered under the light so that it alternated between a deep, Ladybug red and sophisticated black.

 

His breath was caught in his lungs and it took some effort to swallow. She hadn’t seen him yet and in a moment of inspiration, he leaned toward the DJ who was preparing the next song as the current pop beat ended.

 

Nino watched him, brows furrowed in confusion when the DJ nodded and dug around in his crate for the next song. “You’re going to cost me that bet, aren’t you?” Nino moaned.

 

Adrien gave him an apologetic shrug, then made his way onto the dance floor. His requested song filled the room as his eyes remained glued onto his everyday Ladybug.

 

_ I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight _

_ I've never seen you shine so bright _

 

As though she could feel his gaze on her, Marinette turned away from greeting Sabrina. Their eyes met across the crowd, and she excused herself to wade into the throng.

 

_ I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance _

_ They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance _

_ And I have never seen that dress you're wearing _

_ Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes _

_ I have been blind _

 

“You came.”

 

Adrien nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he held out a hand. “I couldn’t stay away. Will you dance with me?”

 

Wordlessly, she stepped closer and he folded her in his arms as they started to dance.

 

_ The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek _

_ There's nobody here, it's just you and me _

_ It's where I want to be _

_ But I hardly know this beauty by my side _

_ I'll never forget the way you look tonight _

 

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair.

 

He didn’t need to say why; she knew. 

 

_ I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight _

_ I've never seen you shine so bright, you were amazing _

_ I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side _

_ And when you turned to me and smiled, it took my breath away _

 

“He’s going to be okay, you know.” Marinette could feel his answering nod against her hair.

 

_ And I have never had such a feeling _

_ Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight _

 

“I was in love with Ladybug,” Adrien admitted quietly.

 

Marinette stilled a moment with the confession, but he continued to lead her in the dance and she resumed her movement.

 

“I just thought you should know that,” he continued.

 

“Was?”

 

He shifted in her arms, pulling back to meet her eyes. “Superheroes can’t really have relationships, can they?”

 

Marinette bit her lip, but nodded.

 

“But we can.” The statement sounded almost like a question, and his piercing stare confirmed it.

 

_ The lady in red is dancing with me, cheek to cheek _

_ There's nobody here, it's just you and me _

_ It's where I want to be _

 

Marinette turned her head to rest her cheek against him. “I have the biggest crush on Chat Noir,” she mumbled.

 

Adrien’s breath escaped in a chuckle. “I think I can live with that,” he replied and Marinette smiled.

 

“Then I think I can handle your Ladybug obsession,” she decided.

 

_ But I hardly know this beauty by my side _

_ I'll never forget the way you look tonight _

_ I never will forget the way you look tonight _

 

He pulled back again as the song came to a close, threading his fingers into her wavy black locks. She blinked up at him, the intensity of his gaze drowning out everything around them as he leaned down to kiss her.

 

_...my lady in red. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me in the journey!
> 
> A couple things that I didn't find a place for in this last chapter:
> 
> 1\. Adrien gave Ivan his apartment to use.  
> 2\. In a talk that happened behind the scenes, Adrien informed his father that he'd be attending Cambridge. They have a fashion school, which means he could minor in fashion in order to take over Gabriel if he should so choose. But primarily, he'll be studying physics!
> 
> (Point two is only really relevant to the story if I write the epilogue I've been playing around with. Which was supposed to take place around Christmas. Which is why I wanted to finish this BEFORE Christmas. :sigh:)
> 
> Oh, and I really want to do some illustrations for this story. My artistic abilities are... pretty much nonexistent. But you can do some amazing things with Gimp/Photoshop/etc. I put pics of the ice cream cones in Chapter 14 the other day :-) So who knows, perhaps I'll get some of the key scenes drawn up over the next year.
> 
> Cheers and Happy New Year to you all!


	28. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much an entirely separate story that just happens to take place after the main story. Why can't I ever keep things short?

**_Six-ish years later_ **

**December 1st**

**Cambridge, England**

 

Plagg sniffed dubiously at the yellow cube of so-called cheese Adrien had set before him. It wasn’t camembert and frankly, he doubted it was even that cheddar the English were so fond of. He poked it with a paw, and watched as it rolled a few centimeters off the napkin.

 

“I think this might be poison,” he groused.

 

Adrien didn’t reply, instead making a note in the margin of his student’s introductory physics homework. He was used to Plagg’s incessant whining, but guilt nagged at him. It was almost dinner time and they’d skipped lunch. The nearby canteen’s menu was reasonable, however by the time Adrien had set aside his stack of ungraded papers there was little left but some wilted lettuce and cheese cubes at the salad bar.

 

Scrawling a score at the top of the paper, he spared a quick glance for his ever-present companion. “Almost done.”

 

“You said that two hours ago.”

 

“Well, I mean it this time,” Adrien clarified. “Last paper, and then we’re heading home.”

 

Plagg knocked the squishy cubes into the trash receptacle beside Adrien’s desk and floated off toward the window. Careful to keep himself hidden from view, he gazed at the shadowy campus beyond. Winters were meant for hibernating, but the last few years found them enduring long hours in libraries, laboratories, and lecture halls as Adrien plowed through the rigorous demands of late-semester studies. He’d thought it would be better once Adrien’s degree was complete, only to learn that a whole other slew of responsibilities awaited him as a teaching assistant in graduate school.

 

His stomach grumbled and Plagg grimaced. “I’d even take those disgusting candies Marinette snacks on.”

 

Frowning at the illegible scrawling on the paper before him, Adrien hummed. “Candies?”

 

“Those chalky round ones with the different colors?”

 

Adrien blinked, distracted. “Oh, the SweeTarts. Yeah, Chloe sent those from her last trip to the States. I don’t like them, either.”

 

“Between you and me, I think Marinette needs to get her taste buds checked out. She tosses the green ones, but those are the only ones that actually taste sweet. I tried two of the pink ones she likes and gagged.”

 

Humming absently, Adrien circled the velocity calculation on the last question, adding a question mark with a flourish. “Done.” He checked the time on his cell phone and winced. “Shit. I forgot to pick up my tux for the fundraiser.” He shot an apologetic look toward Plagg. “Okay, one more stop and then we’ll have dinner.”

 

Heaving a sigh, Plagg slipped into the winter coat hanging by Adrien’s office door. “I’m expecting some quality  _ fromage _ , kid,” he glowered.

 

**December 3rd**

**London, England**

 

“I can’t believe you did that!”

 

“Tikki will fix it,” Chat dismissed breathlessly, darting in for a searing kiss.

 

“That’s--” she muttered against his lips, “entirely beside--” she gasped, “the point!”

 

Chat pulled back, his hungry gaze roving her flushed face. “It’s been two weeks, Bug,” he deadpanned.

 

Ladybug blinked and appeared to consider his words before her hand darted out to grasp his bell, tugging him forward. “Three,” she corrected as she wrapped a leg around his waist and craned her neck to nip at his ear.

 

He lifted her up against the wall effortlessly, heedless of the destruction their impromptu makeout session wrought.

 

In the elegantly appointed hallway outside, a passing bellhop paused, straining to hear what sounded like an avalanche of boxes. A clattering sound followed, somewhat muffled, from the janitorial closet to his right. He reached out toward the doorknob.

 

“George, we need you up front!”

 

The bellhop nodded toward his shift supervisor, backing away from the door with a cocked eyebrow. A faint moan followed and he blushed, scurrying toward the lobby.

 

“I can’t believe we’ve never done this before,” Chat murmured, his breath hot against Ladybug’s shoulder as they both struggled to catch their breath in the darkness.

 

Ladybug giggled, a girlish sound she hadn’t made in years and it made Chat’s heart leap. “It’s a good thing I packed extra cookies. No way I’m going home like this.”

 

“I’m not sorry,” Chat replied cheekily, “but tell Tikki I am anyway.”

 

Ladybug pushed him aside playfully. “Okay, enough of that.” She kissed him on the cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you later?”

 

He nodded, wrapping her in a quick hug. “Love you.” Releasing her, Chat opened the closet door a crack and checked the hallway before slipping outside and making his way toward the men’s room. Chat Noir and Ladybug’s appearances complete, it was time for Adrien Agreste, former teen supermodel, to make his debut.

 

Back in the supply closet, Marinette handed her kwami a cookie. “Sorry, Tikki. I’d go home without transforming, but I didn’t dress for the weather and I can’t exactly go home with a rip in my suit,” she blushed.

 

Tikki gave her a look, but her eyes were dancing. “It’s okay, Marinette. You’ve both been under a lot of stress lately -- and it’s important to keep the passion alive in a marriage.”

 

Marinette fingered the simple band on her left hand fondly. “Hopefully things calm down in January,” she muttered. “We barely see each other lately.”

 

Between Adrien’s busy teaching and research schedule and her long days at  _ Feng Sway _ in London, it was a miracle they saw each other at all. The boutique’s owner was thoroughly impressed with Marinette’s work and was hinting at a promotion to partner in the new year. Things were looking up. One more year and they could move back home -- living in the same city, no less! Sorbonne was already courting Adrien for an adjunct teaching position and if she made partner, Marinette was sure she could convince Sophia to let her open up a second shop in Paris.

 

“Ready!”

 

Marinette smiled. “Spots on!”   
  


**December 10**

**London**

 

Anabel Davies frowned as her companion yawned for the fifth time since she’d started counting. Marinette shrugged her shoulders seemingly working out a kink her her neck.

 

“Rough night?”

 

Marinette turned away from the tie rack she was inspecting. “Not particularly, why do you ask?”

 

“You keep yawning,” Anabel replied. “We can cut our shopping trip short, if you’re tired?”

 

The other woman shook her head. “No, I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m getting plenty of sleep, but I’m completely knackered half the day.”

 

“You’re working too hard,” Anabel chastised gently. “That promotion is in the bag, dear. Holidays are coming. Cut yourself a little slack.”

 

Marinette sighed, and turned back toward the ties. She lifted an iridescent blue and green tie, inspecting the stitching and finer details for quality. “You’re probably right. I guess I’m just compensating.”

 

“Compensating?”

 

“Adrien and I are going to Paris over Christmas for an extended holiday. I’ve been trying to tie up loose ends and make up for the time off.” She unhooked the tie from the rack and laid it over her wrist before starting toward the till. “Plus, there’s all the holiday shopping to be done, wrap up from last week’s orphanage fundraiser…”

 

“Okay,” Anabel declared, “it’s tea time for you. Let’s get that paid for and off we go.”

 

Any thoughts of arguing with her friend were dashed when another yawn slipped out. Marinette made her purchase and followed Anabel two blocks down the street to their favorite cafe.

 

“Is the tie for Adrien? I’m surprised you aren’t making it yourself.”

 

Marinette grimaced. “I would, but I kept procrastinating on finding the right material.” Normally, her husband tended toward subdued colors for everyday attire, having spent so much of his youth in the spotlight. This particular tie was to be an exception.

 

One year ago, on a particularly cold, late Fall evening, a courier appeared on the doorstep of Marinette’s London flat. She signed for the parcel and letter he’d handed her, then retreated to the couch where she and Adrien proceeded to unbox the peacock miraculous. The companion letter came from the executor of Nathalie Sancoeur’s estate, who wrote that the woman had succumbed to pancreatic cancer the month before.

 

It was an anticlimactic ending to be sure, but a welcome one. Dusuu joined his companions in the miracle box with joy and the kwamis -- Plagg and Tikki included -- celebrated for days after. The letter included a note from Nathalie herself, explaining the relationship between herself and Adrien’s late mother as well as how Emilie had used the peacock miraculous to summon up a companion on occasion.

 

He didn’t say as much, but Marinette could tell that the note brought up unresolved regrets Adrien had regarding his mother’s life. She’d been as lonely as him -- neglected by her spouse in favor of his burgeoning fashion empire. Adrien was not only her son, but her best friend -- up until early adolescence moved him to pull away and explore his independence.

 

It wasn’t his fault, of course -- and rationally Adrien knew it. Still, a voice echoed in his mind on late nights, positing that he could have saved her if only his natural instincts toward freedom hadn’t interfered. Marinette knew better than to try to dispel the notion, instead remaining quietly at his side as he worked through his emotions. In the end, Adrien found himself drawn toward the brooch as a fond reminder of the mother he loved and missed. He’d never ask to wear it, but having it near brought him a measure of peace when sadder memories threatened to overwhelm him.

 

Their waiter appeared, placing a cup of espresso in front of Marinette and a plate of scones in the center of the table. She took a sip from the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

Marinette shook her head. “No, I just-- I guess I’m not really in a coffee mood.” She stifled another yawn, and reached into her purse for a twenty euro bill. Sliding it beneath her cup, she pushed back from the table. “I’m sorry Ana, but I think I might need a nap after all. I’ll call you later, okay?”

 

**December 17**

**London**

 

Adrien looked up as Marinette staggered into the kitchen. “Morning!” he greeted with a bright smile. Fall term over, he’d arrived home late last night, bags in tow, to find his beautiful wife dead asleep. Term intercessions were his favorite time of the year, when he and Marinette could actually live together like a normal couple without drawing curious questions from family and friends.

 

As wonderful as it was that they’d both been accepted to schools in England, the fact that London and Cambridge were over an hour apart by train didn’t make things easy. The horse miraculous was a huge help, but Marinette’s sense of duty -- and Adrien’s own ethics -- prevented them from abusing the privilege. Upon graduating from the fashion program, Marinette had insisted on joining Adrien in Cambridge. He, in turn, urged her return to Paris, where she had better odds of launching her career. Ultimately they’d compromised; Marinette moved into a small flat in London while Adrien spent his weeknights bunking in a shared student flat with two of his classmates. Knowing that the distance between them could be easily bridged made it seem smaller, somehow.

 

Marinette leaned up to peck her husband on the cheek before opening up the refrigerator and staring blearily into the void.

 

“The light’s going to burn out if you keep that up,” Adrien teased, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

She stuck her tongue out and he laughed. Marinette never had been much of a morning person.

 

“Nothing looks good,” she pouted. “I could really go for spaghetti.”

 

Adrien stared at her, aghast. “For breakfast?”

 

“It’s almost ten,” she whined defensively, reaching past the orange juice for a plastic container near the back. She lifted the lid, then immediately shut it and shoved the container back in the fridge before turning around and practically running back to the bedroom.

 

“Marinette?”

 

Bewildered, Adrien set his coffee on the counter and retrieved the offending container.

 

“There it is!” Plagg zipped out from his cozy spot in Adrien’s bathrobe, a gleeful grin spread wide across his fuzzy black face. He snatched the glass bowl, pulling out the gooey half-wheel of camembert from within. “I thought she threw it out,” he purred in relief.

 

Adrien shook his head, taking back the empty container and nestling it in the top rack of the dishwasher. “Bon appetit,” he wished Plagg with a wry grin.

 

The toilet flushed across the apartment and Marinette emerged moments later, patting her face dry.

 

“You okay?”

 

She nodded. “Love you, deal with the cheese,” she sighed.

 

It was a silly gag that they’d managed to keep up from the beginning. Adrien kept the apartment supplied with cookies for “Marinette” and she, likewise, made sure to stock the fridge with an assortment of cheeses for “Adrien.” The kwamis made a point of staying out of sight, which turned out to be as much fun as it was practical. Tikki and Plagg shared their own little love nest in a cat tree, which gave their humans the privacy young lovers and newlyweds needed.

 

Marinette reached into a cupboard, pulling out a package of crisps. “Do you still want to try out that new restaurant for lunch? I’m feeling a little queasy, but I’ll manage if you do.”

 

Adrien shook his head. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I can use the time to search for earlier Startrain tickets. There’s a snowstorm forecast for next week. Do you think you could move your holiday up a couple of days?”

 

Brows furrowed in contemplation, Marinette’s expression turned anxious. “Sophia would agree to it,” she began haltingly. “But I’m not sure I can finish my current project on time as it is.”

 

He shrugged and rinsed his coffee mug before sauntering over to wrap his arms around her. He’d missed holding her the last week and a half. “No problem,” he assured, nuzzling into her hair and placing a kiss on that special spot just behind her ear. “Meteorologists are wrong all the time anyway.”

 

**December 24**

**London**

 

“It’s going to be okay, Marinette,” Tikki soothed, patting the crying woman on the head to little effect.

 

Marinette sniffled, raising her head to regard the kwami. “I’ve never missed  _ Réveillon _ with Maman and Papa,” she mourned.

 

“Well, maybe it’s a good time to start some new traditions,” Tikki encouraged. “You and Adrien have been married for over a year now, after all.”

 

The bug had a point, but it did little to soothe the ache in Marinette’s heart. “I should have listened to Adrien,” she pouted.

 

“Yes, you should,” he agreed jovially, keys jingling as he entered their flat. Tikki ducked away when he appeared in kitchen to deposit his overstuffed bags on the table. “What about?” Finally able to see past the front of his nose, Adrien took in the drying tear streaks on his wife’s face and rushed over to her. “Mari?”

 

“The trains are snowed in,” she explained, voice wavering on the edge of another sob, “so we won’t be able to go home!”

 

“Oh.” Flexing long-dormant acting muscle, he feigned surprise. He’d awoken to the news earlier in the morning, immediately enacting Holiday Celebration Plan B. As Chat, he generally followed Ladybug’s lead in making and executing plans. As Adrien and Marinette, however, it seemed as though the roles were often reversed.

 

“We can video chat,” he offered. “I know it’s not the same, but it’s something, right?”

 

Marinette nodded, sniffling again, and leaned into Adrien’s warmth. “I actually thought about asking Kaalki to take us,” she mumbled, “but Mama would wonder how we got there, so…”

 

“We could see my Father,” Adrien offered.

 

“Do they do prison visits on Christmas Eve?” Marinette asked, raising her head to look Adrien in the eye suspiciously.

 

“I was kidding.”

 

“Oh, I knew that,” she lied, flushing.

 

“He’ll be out next year,” Adrien murmured absently. Shaking it off, he summoned up a smile and tugged Marinette over to the table. “Okay, happy thoughts. I managed to get my hands on the recipe for  _ buche de noel _ from the best baker in Paris,” he winked, “and there was a sale on some excellent red wine. Let’s make this a very meow-y Christmas, hm?”

 

Marinette’s eyes shimmered with tears again, but she smiled up at him in complete adoration. “I love you.”

 

He pecked her on the forehead. “I love you, too.”

 

**December 31st**

**Saint Gerard Hospital**

**Paris, France**

 

Alya frowned as she ended the call. “He’s not picking up.”

 

_ Of course not _ , Marinette inwardly groaned. She’d expected as much. Adrien’s meeting with his prospective future employer had run late, so they’d agreed to meet up at the Bourgeois’ New Year’s Eve gala after Ladybug and Chat Noir made their appearance. Chat was probably arriving there now.

 

Her stomach continued to roil, and her vision swam when she lifted her head too quickly.

 

“I’ll get the nurse,” Alya declared.

  
“N-no,” Marinette reached out a hand to stop her, “I’m sure they’ll call me back soon.”

 

Sitting back down on the stiff, plastic, waiting room chair, Alya reached out to rub her dearest friend’s back. “Did you eat something funny?”

 

Marinette shook her head, then winced as the vertigo came back. “I don’t think so,” she muttered. “I’ve had a slight headache all day, and the nausea has been on and off for a couple of weeks now.”

 

“Maybe it’s the flu?”

 

“Marinette?”

 

She looked up at the call of her name, and Alya helped her to her feet. Slowly they made their way into the triage ward. The nurse directed Marinette to the examination table as Alya got comfortable in a corner chair. She took her patient’s temperature and blood pressure.

 

“Normal,” she noted, adding the information to the folder in her hands. “When was your last period?”

 

Marinette’s brow scrunched in thought. “Um, November...something. I think it was the last week.”

 

The nurse nodded, scritched on her notepad, and turned to the cabinets behind her. Retrieving a plastic cup and a couple of wet wipes, she handed them to Marinette. “The bathroom is down the hall to the right. Use each wipe, then collect midstream,” she directed. “You can leave the cup on the shelf and then wait here.”

 

Marinette followed her instructions, then returned to the examination room. Wrapping her arms around herself against the chill in the ward, she glanced toward Alya apologetically. “Sorry about all this.”

 

Alya waved her off. “This is what besties are for,” she declared. “We’ll reschedule our dinner date for another day. When are you heading back?”

 

“Monday,” Marinette replied. “I’ll probably be fine tomorrow, though.”

 

“Tomorrow it is, then.” Alya lifted her phone up, checking for missed calls. “Do you want me to try again?”

 

Marinette shook her head. “No. You left a message. He’ll call back when he gets it.”

 

Silence descended on the room, and Alya reached for the remote to flip on the television. Nadja Chamack was standing in front of the Hotel Grand Paris.

 

_ “Ladybug and Chat Noir are scheduled to attend tonight’s gala event,” she reported, “but I’m being told that neither have shown up y--” she startled a bit, and the camera turned its focus to the left where Chat Noir landed with his characteristic grace. “Oh, here is Chat Noir now. Monsieur, will Ladybug be joining us?” she called. _

 

_ He paused his traversal of the red carpet, turning toward the reporter with curiosity. “She’s not here yet?” _

 

_ “No, you’re the first to arrive,” Nadja asserted. _

 

Marinette bit her lip at the ill-concealed panic in Chat’s expression.

 

_ “I- I’m sure she’ll be along shortly,” Chat stammered. “Excuse me.” _

 

Alya sighed. “I tried to get tickets for the gala, but they sold out fast.”

 

Marinette turned her attention back to her best friend. “Still a big Ladybug fan?”

 

“Always!” she insisted. “It would have been awesome to ring in the new year with Ladybug.”

 

Amused by the irony, Marinette smiled at her fondly. “Well, the night’s not over yet. What were your plans, anyway? I don’t want to keep you…”

 

Alya attempted a casual shrug, but Marinette knew her too well.

 

“Alya?”

 

“Okay, well… a few weeks ago I ran into Nino.” She tried to play it off casually, but the tell-tale blush on her cheeks had Marinette intrigued. “We ended up having coffee. You know, to catch up and stuff. He broke up with Selene six months ago.”

 

“And…?”

 

Sighing, Alya couldn’t help the grin that made its way across her cheeks. “And… well… I guess the old feelings never completely went away.”

 

Marinette squealed, then winced as her headache throbbed.

 

“Don’t get too excited,” Alya warned. “We’re not official or anything. It’s just a casual thing for now. I’d point out that people rarely end up with their schoolyard crushes, but considering my audience--”

 

“You’re totally going to be marrying Nino!”

 

The curtain surrounding the exam room parted and the doctor cleared his throat. “Madame? I’m Dr. Bisset.”

 

**Hotel Grand Paris**

**21:20**

 

Chat Noir quickly shook hands with the mayor, then excused himself to dash out into the cold, Parisian night. Ducking into a nearby alley, he called off his transformation. Plagg deposited into the warmth of his overcoat, he hastily pulled out his cell phone and cursed under his breath. Seven missed calls -- the first two from Marinette followed by four from Alya and one unknown number.

 

Walking back toward the street, he hailed a cab and listened to his voicemail messages.

 

“Where to?” the cab driver asked.

 

Adrien’s eyes widened in alarm as the message ended and he glanced toward the man in the driver’s seat. “Saint Gerard.”

 

**Saint Gerard Hospital**

**21:43**

 

All eyes turned to the familiar face that burst into the waiting room. Adrien took a quick look around, locating the nurse’s station and practically running up to the woman stationed there.

 

“Marinette Agreste?”

 

He turned at a tap on his shoulder to see Alya smiling up at him reassuringly. “She’s in the back, I’ll take you there.”

 

She led him to the exam room, then excused herself to give them some privacy.

 

Marinette smiled at him, beckoning him over with the arm that wasn’t hooked into an intravenous line.

 

“Marinette!” Adrien leaned down to hug her tightly, tears of relief edging his eyelids. “What happened?” He pulled back, his gaze searching.

 

“I’m fine,” she soothed. “Just had a little vertigo and dehydration from throwing up this morning.” She let go of the hand she’d been holding, and reached over to the bedside table. Handing over the glossy sheets she’d retrieved, her smile lifted cautiously.

 

The picture in his hand was monochrome, a misshapen black blob with a smaller, kidney bean white blob in the center. “What’s this?” 

 

“I’m thinking Hugo, if it’s a boy, or Emma for a girl.”

 

He blinked, the words filtering through the fog of his mind as the pieces clicked into place. His stomach dropped and he looked toward his wife in shock. “You’re…? But I thought you were on the pill?”

 

She nodded, but her brows furrowed in contemplation. “That’s what’s so surprising. I check the pack every night before bed to make sure I didn’t miss any. I skip the green ones because they’re just sugar pills, but I still make sure to take them out and throw them away.”

 

“The green ones…” He was suddenly very aware of the fuzzy lump curled up in his jacket pocket.

 

Marinette worried her bottom lip in trepidation. This was unexpected news, but she’d hoped he’d be happy. “Are you okay?”

 

Drawn from his pondering, he looked back at his wife incredulously. “Okay? I’m--” he couldn’t speak, the words trapped in his throat. Instead, he lunged toward her, tugging her tightly against him before suddenly backing off as though he’d break her. “I love you,” he whispered earnestly.

 

“I take it you’re Monsieur Agreste?”

 

The pair turned toward the curtain, where Dr. Bisset stood smiling. “Madame seems to have more aggressive morning sickness than average, but we’ll be able to discharge you once this round of I.V. fluid is up.”

 

“How far along is she?”

 

“Six weeks, give or take a few days,” the doctor replied. “Congratulations.”

 

Dr. Bisset left them for his next patient and Adrien stood staring into space, his brain working. “Six weeks… wasn’t that during our little dry spell?”

 

Marinette knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but her gaze turned stony nonetheless. “Pregnancies are measured in weeks from the last period,” she informed him. “The fetus would be around four weeks old.”

 

_ The orphanage fundraiser _ , he calculated.

 

In the distance, they could hear the jubilant countdown happening at the nurse’s station. It was almost midnight. Turning back to his wife, Adrien’s smile lit up his entire face. “Hugo, huh?”

 

“Or Louis.”

 

_ … three… two… one… _

 

He kissed her.

 

“Happy New Year,” she murmured against his lips.

 

“Happy New Year,” he returned.

 

***

 

The pair walked out of the hospital at quarter to one in the morning. Marinette had grown silent as Adrien hailed a cab to take them back to his in-laws’ house.

 

“Adrien?” 

 

He glanced back toward her, watching as she twiddled her fingers anxiously.

  
“You  _ are  _ Chat Noir... right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plagg, Plagg, Plagg... Don't eat other peoples' "candies".


End file.
